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Chapter Text

ONE

In an enraged Kushina's opinion, if the masked bastard nin just absolutely had to infiltrate Konoha in order to release the demon-fox from its seal while she was giving birth, then the absolute very least he could have done was fucking wait until both fucking babies were out of her fucking womb before fucking attacking!

Another scream tore through her gritted teeth as a fresh wave of pain had her convulsing on the ground. The Kyuubi's chakra was flaring violently somewhere in the distance and she could hear the screams from the village all the way from this shitty cave where she was alone, surrounded by the bodies of dead ANBU and poor Biwako while trying to push a baby into the world. She barely knew any healing chakra, had never really needed to, not with the Kyuubi sealed inside her, but now the Kyuubi was gone and there was too much blood coming out of her, far too much blood, but no baby.

The next contraction had her screaming as it felt like she was being torn in half, the pain worse than any of the earlier ones. Worse than the pain of pushing the first baby out into the world. Worse than the pain when the bastard had ripped the Kyuubi out of her. Worse even then the absolute agony of seeing that masked nin hold a kunai to her newborn son's neck.

And now she could feel her second baby's chakra flickering unsteadily, the warm little hum that had grown inside her barely a candle flame compared to the bonfire it had been before. Her baby was dying inside her and Kushina was alone in the cave, lying in a pool of blood and listening to her ex-prisoner destroy the village her loved ones called home, knowing her husband would be fighting on the frontlines, not even knowing if her newborn son, her poor Naruto, was still alive.

It took her a few more useless contractions and just as useless attempts at pushing to realise that the pain was... ebbing. She couldn't feel her fingertips anymore– and she knew better than to think it was her Uzumaki healing factor finally coming into play. No, she was dying, dying here alone except for the tiny remnants of a chakra presence in her belly— and Kushina's heart stuttered when she noticed for the first time, in her confused daze, that the chakra presence of her second baby was gone.

She didn't hesitate. Not even for a second. She just grabbed the closest kunai and used it to slice open her stomach, barely even noticing the pain as she butchered herself to free her baby from the womb that was now killing it.

The baby was small and pale and silent as death, unlike Naruto who'd been born flushed strawberry-pink and squalling. As Kushina stared heartbroken at the still, silent baby, at her precious, beloved daughter, she realised that the red of the baby's hair wasn't blood. Her little girl had inherited the red hair of an Uzumaki, of the family that she'd loved and lost... and now here was another Uzumaki that she'd loved and lost.

No. No. She didn't accept it. She just couldn't. She wasn't losing another of her kin, she refused. "Live!" Kushina hissed, her voice cracking as she pressed her hand against her daughter's heart, gathering her strength to push all the chakra she could manage into her baby girl. "You are an Uzumaki! You are my daughter! Damnit, you are a survivor and you will live!"

And her daughter gasped, brilliant blue eyes bursting open, and Kushina couldn't help the fresh wave of tears. Relief turned her near-boneless as she collapsed back, holding her newborn daughter close to her heart as she lay dying in a mess of her own blood. But she could feel her baby's chakra again, could feel the bonfire of an Uzumaki, though it was chillier then she remembered, like ice so cold that it burned, and she knew her baby would live.

"My little princess," she whispered hoarsely to her daughter, her beautiful Uzumaki daughter, "my brave, strong girl." Her baby was gasping as if in shock, terrified little breaths torn from delicate little lungs, big blue eyes blinking up at her in frightened bewilderment. Kushina smiled brokenly back down at her through her tears, through the blood she could taste at the back of her throat, through the icy-cold touch of death creeping through her limbs.

"I'm so sorry I'm not going to be here for you," she said, forcing the words out despite her exhaustion. "I'm so sorry you're going to have to survive this cruel world without me. But you will survive it, because you are an Uzumaki... you and your brother, you will be the last Uzumaki. You are my children, you are the heirs of the Whirlpool.. and when I'm gone, you will be the last Princess of the Whirlpools.

"I wish I could be here to teach you what that means, to teach you what being an Uzumaki of Uzushiogakure means... I wish I could teach you our history, our customs... Konoha won't teach you, I know they won't," Kushina couldn't help her bitter laugh, or the bitter tears that came with it. "All they'll care about is your loyalty to their village, not a dead one that they failed and now do their best to forget in their shame. You and your brother, you will be the last of our clan, the last of the Uzumaki... the last to hold the ruling heart of Uzushio inside you. Don't lose that heart... no matter what happens, please don't lose that heart... you'll need to protect each other... love each other... because you'll be the last..."

Kushina finally fell silent in her grief, using the last of her rapidly fading strength to hold her daughter close. Her daughter... she and Minato had created a whole list of names when they realised she was pregnant, a list that had only grown when they realised she was expecting twins. Eventually, they'd settled on four names– two boy names and two girl names, so all their bases were covered. 

If there was only one boy, then they'd name him Naruto, after Jiraiya's novel (and a little bit after her favourite ramen topping, if she was being honest). If there were two boys, they'd name the second after her father, Arashi. If there was only one girl, then they'd planned to name her Kairi, after the last Uzukage, Kushina's beloved aunt. If there were two girls, then they'd name the second Miki, written as 'beautiful tree', in honor of Konoha, the village Minato loved (though she would have always imagined the kanji in her head as 'beautiful princess', because for all that she loved some of the people in Konoha, she could never quite forgive them for failing Uzushio).

Neither of those names were what Kushina said, however, as she changed the angle of her head slightly so she could brush her lips against her daughter's forehead, ignoring how her mouth left a wet, red smudge against the baby's wintry-pale skin. Instead, she found herself murmuring, "Fuyuko... your name is Uzumaki Fuyuko."

'Winter child'... she wasn't sure where it came from, maybe it was the icy touch of her daughter's chakra, or the snowy paleness to her skin, or even her deep blue eyes, like the freezing depths of the ocean in winter... whatever it was, wherever it had come from, it just sounded right.

"Fuyuko, my winter child," she murmured, and let her eyes close.

Despite her expectations, she didn't die then, but Kushina was correct in her grim certainty that she wouldn't survive to raise her children. But she did survive to hold the Kyuubi down, she did survive to tell her husband his daughter's name, she did survive to witness Minato seal the Yin and Yang halves of the demon-fox into her infant twins for the sake of a village she couldn't help but spend her last moments hating with every gods-be-damned fibre of her being, and she did survive to witness the strange look the Shinigami gave her newborn daughter before she finally succumbed to her wounds— it was almost as if, impossibly, the Death God had recognised her.

Chapter Text

TWO

Sansa Stark had never been more confused in her life. She did not understand what was happening, she did not understand where she was or what she was doing there, not when the last she remembered was dying, and Death. 

There is only one god, Arya had said, over and over, her Stark-grey eyes steely and fierce; he may have many faces, but there is only one god and his name is Death. Sansa had never agreed or protested this; she had no love for gods, no care to defend them. Even if they existed, defending them would do nothing. She used to pray for mercy, but Cersei had been right when she'd declared the gods had no mercy. That it was why they were gods. Sansa believed that. It was a truth she carried with her in her heart, where others, even Arya, carried their faith.

And yet, in the end, the gods did show mercy. Death did show mercy, as They had appeared before her to end her suffering. And Sansa had taken Their hand, looked into the endless abyss of Their eyes, and for the first time since the sweet summer years of her youth, she had felt peace as darkness swallowed her. Peace and warmth and safety and a humming energy that became as familiar to her as the steady beating of her own heart as she could finally rest.

But then everything shattered, and Sansa realised she'd been right the first time—the gods had no mercy, not even Death, because she'd found herself torn from her peace, from her warmth, from her safety. Even the humming energy had almost faded to nothing until a burst of stronger humming energy, one that was different but still somehow familiar, crashed through her.

And with that energy came light and life and chaos.

Everything about this situation confused Sansa– and even what little understanding she did somehow manage, such as the words spoken to her by the giant red-haired woman who cradled her tiny, frail, slow-moving, unresponsive form, just made everything more confusing. Sansa had learned to read lips while living in the Red Keep, one of the many skills she'd learned in that monstrous place out of sheer necessity and her fierce drive to survive. The shapes the woman's mouth was moving into were wrong, yet Sansa understood the words she was saying. 

Death, it seemed, truly did transcend everything.

Because she had died. She knew she had died. She had laid her eyes on the face of Death Themself, had accepted Their offered hand, had willingly stepped into Their open embrace, and moved beyond the Realm of the Living. But now... now as fanciful as it seemed, like something out of one of Old Nan's tales, she lived again, reborn as an infant, in a cave, surrounded by the dead and the dying, her new mother's heartbeat a slow, sluggish thing as the woman cradled her to her chest.

There was so much blood. The woman, her new mother, was soaked in it. Sansa knew the woman couldn't survive, she had witnessed the mess of the woman's soft belly, the tender flesh butchered like an animal's carcass. Even in her confused, distressed state, Sansa felt a great deal of respect for the woman who'd loved her unborn child enough to gut herself to save her babe. Something must have gone wrong with the birth, the babe... Sansa... must have been turned sideways, mayhaps, or positioned upside-down in the womb. And clearly, by the dead bodies strewn about the cave, there was no maester or midwife, or at least no living one, present to help.

And then the woman started to speak, still cradling Sansa against her chest, against the sluggish beating of her slowing heart, and even though Sansa didn't really understand what was going on, and she didn't understand how she understood what was being said, she listened to what her new mother was saying.

It was, in some ways, a bitterly familiar tale; she and her brother, wherever and whoever he may be, were the last of their bloodline, their family and lands had been destroyed and they were the last heirs of the Uzumaki, who going by her new mother's repeated usage of 'princess' were the ruling family of this 'Uzushio' kingdom. Her new mother was a stranger to her, yet as she held Sansa close to her heart and spoke with such love and loss of Uzushio and the Uzumaki and of her other child, Sansa's brother, Sansa could hear the echoes of Catelyn Tully in her voice– echoes of Family, Duty, Honour. And then her new mother named her Fuyuko, called her my winter child, and despite herself, despite everything, Sansa realised that she could have loved this woman, given time.

But she was going to lose her.

Sansa couldn't help her tears as her new mother fell silent, as her breath slowed further and further, and her already sluggish heartbeats slowed to match, and she waited, resigned and distraught, for her new mother to die.

Then—more chaos.

Two men appeared, moving too distressingly, impossibly quickly for her eyes to track as they fought viciously, like a pair of gods from Old Nan's stories. One of the men was blond and cradling a squalling newborn babe. The other had black hair and was wearing an orange mask, only one strange red, swirling eye visible. Sansa could barely breathe for the horror of the helplessness she felt, for the fear for herself and for her dying mother. 

And then everything somehow, impossibly, got worse. The masked man fled, only for a terrifying, monstrous creature to appear, an enormous fox-like beast nearly the size of Winterfell who exuded rage and menace so intense that Sansa couldn't stop screaming and screaming, even as her small lungs protested in her chest and her throat ached with a raw burn.

It was unlike anything Sansa had ever seen. Nothing from Old Nan's tales, nor the Army of the Dead, or even Daenerys Targaryen's dragons could compare. Terrifying, yet magnificent, the Fox-Beast's coat looked alive with power, each strand of red-orange fur shining with a magnificent, fiery glow. Two red, slit eyes, each larger then an entire man, burned full of wicked cunning and eerie intelligence and nine tails writhed sinuously around each other, blood-red and fiery. Its tongue lolled as it bared its fanged jaws in a terrible snarl and Sansa sobbed and screamed, trying to cling to her new mother with her new flailing, useless limbs.

Her new mother finally stirred when the blond man was almost crushed by the Fox-Beast, and Sansa watched in utter amazement as she conjured shining golden chains to pin the Fox-Beast down. It was like something out of a song; a tale too fanciful to be true, yet it was happening before her awed eyes.

Her new mother and the blond man then had a short, furious argument Sansa could barely follow, as they talked about sealing and Konoha and shinobi, none of which meant anything to her, but it was during the argument that Sansa realised the blond man was actually her new father, that his name was Minato and her new mother's name was Kushina—and, perhaps most importantly of all, that the blond newborn cradled so protectively in her new father, Minato's, arms was Naruto, the brother that Kushina had kept mentioning.

Minato won the argument and to Sansa's bewilderment, she and Naruto were laid side-by-side on the floor of the cave as Kushina continued to keep the furious Fox-Beast pinned, and Minato began to do... something to her and Naruto's bare bellies with a brush and ink and the strange humming energy that made her squirm in uneasy protest, despite how Minato kept hushing her. Sansa trusted her instincts, however, and her instincts screamed that this was dangerous. That this was harmful to her.

Her instincts told her that she should be afraid, and she was.

Kushina cried out suddenly, short, sharp and pained, and several events happened in quick succession; the Fox-Beast broke partially free from the golden chains Kushina had created, the Fox-Beast used two of its tails to nearly stab Sansa and Naruto, Kushina somehow threw herself in front of them and got stabbed by the Fox-Beast instead, showering them in her hot blood, and then Minato had pressed his palms flat on her and Naruto's bellies and the strange energy that flowed from his hands made Sansa's belly crackle, like it had been struck by lightning, a terrible, searing agony. Her chest heaved frantically, and her heart fluttered madly like the little bird Sandor had always claimed her to be; next to her, Naruto was screaming, but Sansa was silent, in shock, shutting down at the pain as she had so many times before.

That was when Death had appeared.

Sansa recognised Them immediately, and They recognised her too, she thought, though They said nothing as They spoke with Minato—something about 'sealing' a Demon of Nine Tails, which she thought must be the Fox-Beast. She didn't realise that Death and her new father were talking about sealing the Fox-Beast into her and her newborn brother until Death crouched beside her; for a moment, she stared into those familiar, abyss eyes; for a brief moment, she could see in them Everything and the Nothing; it was beautiful and it was ugly. It was chaotic and it was orderly. It was life in its essence, death in its entirety.

And then Death suddenly placed its hand on her bare belly, onto the ink painted there by Minato, and it felt as if she'd been set on fire. It was like liquid flames had replaced the blood in her veins, burning her to death from inside out. She screamed and screamed and screamed, the pain and the panic too overwhelming for her to cope. The last thing she saw before the darkness rose up and overtook her was Death reaching for her new father, for Minato, and she just knew that she was never going to see him again.

At least before, she'd had her parents for nearly a decade and a half before Death had claimed them... this time, she hadn't even gotten an hour. There was something so bitterly unfair about that. 

Chapter Text

THREE

Hiruzen ignored the trio of councilmembers following at his heels as he strode purposefully through the corridors of the overworked hospital. Nurses and medics alike rushed about him, not even pausing to bow, too over-worked and over-wrought in the aftermath of the Kyuubi’s attack to spare time with formalities. The hospital was badly overtaxed, and the morgue below it even more so. Still, even in the over-crowded hospital, a room had been set apart from all the other patients and cordoned off with two ANBU set to guard it, and it was to this room that Hiruzen was headed.

He flickered his chakra in the pre-determined pattern as he neared the room and the two ANBU bowed in response to the code, stepping aside to let him and his old friends through. The hospital room was bleak, despite the bright, fluorescent lighting. White walls and white sheets washed out its occupants, another set of ANBU guards, Jiraiya, and, of course, the reason they were all there– Minato and Kushina’s twins.

One of the twins was awake and whimpering, its skin strawberry pink with a tuft of bright-blond hair. It took Hiruzen a moment to notice the second twin was also awake, the much smaller baby was so quiet. There was something heartbreakingly lovely about the smaller twin, with its thin, easy to tear skin, fragile, pointy bones, and visible veins. It was easy to pretend, even in a world like theirs, that all babies come wailing into the world pink and robust, ready to be handed to teary mothers and proud fathers. But sometimes it didn’t go that way at all.

“The seals are perfect,” Jiraiya said quietly, looking up from his careful study of the twin seals. “The Yin and Yang halves of the Kyuubi are contained.”

“Namikaze outdid himself,” Danzo said, sounding almost reluctantly impressed. “Two jinchūriki.”

Hiruzen felt as if the smaller, frailer twin’s eyes sharpened briefly, but a second glance showed only an infant’s bleary, unfocused gaze.

“Don’t you talk about them like that,” Jiraiya said, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you fucking dare. Not Minato, not Naruto, not Fuyuko.”

Hiruzen closed his eyes, feeling the tension in the hospital room rise.

“And by your decree, are we to not discuss it at all, then? Are we to simply hide from the facts?” Koharu asked sharply, her voice cutting. “You may not like it, Jiraiya, but we cannot afford to hide from the truth of the Yondaime’s actions and we must decide, and decide quickly, what to do with two jinchūriki.”

“I can–” Danzo started, but Jiraiya interrupted him, snarling.

“You can fucking keep your hands off them, you sick bastard!”

“The other villages will be looking at us right now and seeing weakness,” Danzo said calmly, though Hiruzen could hear the muted anger in his voice. “We need a show of strength; I can raise them to be powerful assets to Konoha.”

“You mean, you can raise them to be emotionless little puppets!” Jiraiya retorted. “Over my fucking dead body are you doing that to my godchildren!”

“Jiraiya, Danzo, enough,” he cut in wearily. “Jiraiya, you must realise you can’t raise them yourself– Danzo’s right, the other villages will be looking towards us and seeing weakness. We’ll need your intelligence network now more than ever– we cannot afford for you to be taking the time off to raise two children, not unless you want them raised in a war.”

“That’s low, sensei,” Jiraiya said, low and furious, his eyes glittering with something perilously close to hate.

Hiruzen was used to his students hating him, though, and he didn’t let it deter him.

“You have a duty to your village, Jiraiya,” he said quietly, and after a tense moment, Jiraiya bowed his head briefly, capitulating to the greater good.

“Danzo isn’t touching them,” he said lowly. “If I can’t raise them, then Danzo isn’t fucking touching them— that’s my price.”

“Hiruzen–” Danzo immediately protested, but Hiruzen raised a hand.

“Agreed,” he said calmly. “But that raises another problem.”

“It does,” Koharu agreed, with a frown. “They can’t be raised as Namikaze’s children.”

“What!?” Jiraiya demanded.

“Think, Jiraiya,” Hiruzen said wearily. “The other villages will be looking towards us, trying to gauge us for weakness, but if we give enough of a show of strength, they shouldn’t risk an invasion or breaking the current peace. Not unless we give them a good enough reason to– such as taking out the twin Jinchūriki legacies of the Yellow Flash before they’re old enough to really be a problem.”

Jiraiya looked furious. “So, what, you’re going to strip them of their names, their inheritance, everything they deserve?” he demanded. “Just leave them as another couple of nameless, clanless orphans, in the wake of the Kyuubi attack? Like they aren’t the children of your successor, the Yondaime Hokage? Like they aren’t the direct descendants of the wife of the Shodaime Hokage? Like they aren’t basically the closest thing this village has to royalty?”

“I have to think of what’s best for this village,” Hiruzen said quietly, and Jiraiya’s eyes flashed with rage. He looked moments away from scooping both twins up and carrying them away with him, disappearing from Konoha forever. Hiruzen wouldn’t even blame him, not really. It was the price of being Hokage, to lose the ones he loved; either to death, like his poor Biwako, or to the demands of his post, such as the case of his son and his students. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t, change his mind on the matter. Konoha had to come first, always.

Minato had understood that. It was why he’d sacrificed himself and his children, sealing the Kyuubi into them. His last wish might have been for the village to see his children as heroes, but he’d understand why Hiruzen had to do what he had to do, for the sake of the village.

Kushina, on the other hand…

As if he’d read his mind, Jiraiya smiled darkly at him. “I’d be afraid, if I were you,” he said, “when you pass on to the Pure Lands, Kushina’s going to tear you to pieces.”

His student then pointedly turned his back on him, looking down instead at the twins. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry.” He told them, the pained regret heavy in his voice, “I’m so sorry.” He reached down to touch each tiny hand. “Take care of each other, okay?” He murmured, and then, in a swirl of green leaves, he was gone.

Hiruzen sighed, before turning to the ANBU. “Have them checked over by a medic then placed with the other orphaned children,” he instructed. “Keep a rotating guard over them until further notice of two ANBU per child. And… inform the orphanage staff that their names are Uzumaki Naruto and Uzumaki Fuyuko.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Danzo asked, and he smiled tiredly.

“No,” he admitted. “But do it anyway.”

He couldn’t give the twins their father’s legacy, but perhaps he could give them part of their mother’s.

(It would be years before he realised the mistake he’d made, but by then it would be too late)

Chapter Text

FOUR

The first few weeks following Sansa’s traumatic rebirth passed in a haze of confusion and despair. Considering the bizarre and quite frankly traumatising circumstances of it all, she wasn’t ashamed to say she withdrew into herself quite completely, bewildered and distraught, barely able to comprehend the impossibility of what had happened to her. She almost wondered if it was all some sort of bizarre fever dream, only it was all so far beyond what her imagination could have created that she knew it must be true. Sansa wasn’t sure how long the haze lasted, or how long it would have continued to last, had it not been for the attempt on her and Naruto’s lives drawing her abruptly back to the present.

She smelled the salt first; tears, she would later realise. Their would-be murderer had been crying when he slunk into their room. At first, she thought nothing of his presence, just as she’d thought nothing of all the other men and women who’d come in and out of the small room she and Naruto had been left in that very first day and hadn’t left since. She was simply too distraught and distracted to care for what was happening in the world around her. That was, until rough hands tore Naruto from her side and a flash of metal was followed by her baby brother making a terrible gurgling sound in the man’s arms.

Sansa reacted instantly, letting out a high-pitched shriek of fear-fury-horror-terror that surprised even her. Even through the haze, she hadn’t forgotten Kushina’s last words to her; You and your brother, you will be the last of our clan, the last of the Uzumaki, her new mother, just as red of hair as her last mother, had told her with her dying breath, you'll need to protect each other... love each other... because you'll be the last...

Sansa was used to being the last; for so long, she’d thought herself to be the only Stark left in the world, a lone-wolf with a slaughtered pack. And oh! How ferociously she had clung to her returned family, her still-living pack, when she’d found them once more! There was very little Sansa would not have done for her family, and now Naruto was her family, the very last of her family. He was her pack, and she would fight with every weapon she had, to her very last breath; for Naruto, for Kushina, for the Uzumaki Clan, and even for herself.

Not that there was anything she could actually do, not in this frail, unresponsive form; she was defenceless, helpless, the same way she’d been as a little girl, held back sobbing and screaming as her father’s head was hacked from his body in a merciless swing of the executioner’s sword. Her father’s blood had been so very dark and red that day, just as red as the blood gushing and spurting so alarmingly from Naruto’s small neck.

The attacker cursed at her loud, sudden scream, and carelessly dropped Naruto’s small, bleeding form back in their shared cradle so he could reach for her, wet blood and gleaming silver in his hands. The iron perfume of Naruto’s blood was overpowering to her poor nose, the thick red of it quickly soaking through the blankets. In that moment, looking up at the man, Sansa was entirely convinced that she was about to die alongside her brother. And, in that very same moment, she realised, for the very first time since she’d opened her eyes in this strange, awful, new world, that she did not want to die. She was a Stark, she was a survivor, and she wanted to live.

The sharp-toothed wolf that had been slumbering deep within her as she was lost in her grief finally reared its head, awakened by her resolve and ferocity, and Sansa’s screams changed in pitch, from high-pitched and shrill, to something deeper, something rage-filled and snarling. A burning, scouring heat filled her, as the rage-hatred-fury burned ferociously in her stomach; she bared her fleshy, aching gums at the man reaching for her, and tasted the salty-iron of fresh, hot blood that started to drip down her throat as the pain in her gums spiked suddenly.

The acrid stench of fear filled the air, suddenly; Sansa wasn’t sure why, wasn’t sure what was so terrifying about a babe, barely more than a newborn, but the man leaning above her let out a strangled sound, staring at her with wide, horrified, terrified eyes.

And, most importantly of all, for a few brief, precious seconds, he froze in place– and that was enough time for the animal-masked guards to finally appear.

The appearance of the animal-masked guards was a relief to Sansa, but barely so. The attacker was torn away from them by the guard wearing the bear-mask, but her brother was still dying by her side, his blood dying their thin blankets a dark crimson. The rage-hatred-fury she felt faded quickly, replaced instead by horror-fear-grief as she wailed at the sight of the weeping crimson line drawn deep along Naruto’s tender neck, carving open strawberry-pink flesh and leaving her baby brother to drown in his own blood.

This was how her mother had died, Sansa realised, distraught and not able to stop herself from showing it, not that she cared to hide her grief in this terrible moment. This was how Catelyn Stark had died, her throat cut so deeply that flashes of bone were visible through the thick gushes of red. And now, this was how her brother would die too.

The guard wearing a rabbit mask placed their hand over Naruto’s neck, over his slit throat, and Sansa shrieked her fury, desperately trying to reach for Naruto, cursing her small, useless limbs that flailed about so uncooperatively. The rabbit-masked guard’s hand lit up with eerie green light and Sansa’s panic swelled as Naruto stopped gurgling. Except... to her utter astonishment, when the guard moved their hand away, the terrible wound scored across her brother’s fragile little throat no longer looked quite so terrible, and his little chest seemed to be moving easier, as if he could take in air again.

Gasping, trembling, Sansa actually dared to– hope.

(And oh, and what a terrifying, terrible, treacherous thing hope was!)

Perhaps, just perhaps, Naruto would survive this yet. Whatever strange, unnatural magicks these foreigners used, perhaps it could heal the terrible wound. Perhaps she wasn’t about to become a lone wolf once more.

Before she got the chance to get a better look at Naruto’s throat, her brother was scooped up into a set of arms, these belonging to a woman– judging by the figure– in a rooster mask. Sansa cried out in protest, but just moments later she was lifted too, by the man in a striped, cat-like mask who clearly had no knowledge of how to properly hold a babe in order to support the weak neck. Before Sansa could let her displeasure at the inadequate handling be known, the man moved, and the world blurred unsettlingly around her.

Her stomach rolled with displeasure and Sansa tried to summon the breath to cry out, to scream, but couldn’t manage it against the pressure of the air. She could only gasp, tiny, soft sounds of shock, and cling to the dark vest of the striped-masked man with weak little fingers.

And then the man stopped moving, to her utter relief, and she realised she was back in the room she and Naruto had first been taken to on that first day, after they’d been taken away from the cave with their dead parents. It was the room where the white-haired man, Jiraiya, had examined the marks on her and Naruto’s stomach, ‘seals’ he’d called them, and named them to be perfect. It was also where Jiraiya had apologised to them but had still prioritised the village– Konoha, Sansa thought it was called, from what she’d managed to track of the conversation– over them, and she wasn’t sure how to take that. As a Queen, she understood the necessity of sacrifice; as a helpless, newly orphaned babe, she was enraged that he would break his vows to her and Naruto’s parents and abandon them.

It was in this room that she’d also ‘met’ the old, tired-looking man with eyes tight with grief, Hiruzen, who had given Jiraiya his orders– clearly, he was the ruler of this village– a sharp-tongued elderly woman, a silent elderly man with the glasses and beard, and a clever-eyed, bandaged old man, Danzo, who had enraged Jiraiya so, and who had looked over at her and Naruto with the sort of greedy hunger she recognised.

Oh yes, she certainly recognised that look of his; that desire to possess, to manipulate, to use, as if she and Naruto were little more than pieces on a cyvasse board. Valuable pieces, yes, just as Sansa Stark, Key to the North, had been a valuable piece to the greedy, covetous players around her, but still just a piece to be played nonetheless. Sansa had taught all those who’d seen her as such the depth and breadth of their mistake; she was no piece, but a player in her own right, one who had learned from the many successes and failures of the masters of the great game; Cersei, Margaery, Olenna, Petyr, Tyrion. When you played the Game of Thrones, you won or you died; Sansa had outlived them all. Even in this helpless body, in this strange, horrible world, she would never again be treated as a playing piece to be moved by her ‘betters’.

Jiraiya, this absent godfather of hers and Naruto, had protected them from Danzo; that, at least, he had done for them. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder as she watched from her perch in the striped-masked man’s arms while a series of oddly-dressed men and women hovered over little Naruto where he was laid out on a bed with white-sheets that were rapidly staining red, snapping out strings of words she didn’t understand, such as ‘hypovolemic shock’ and ‘organ failure’, their hands glowing that same eerie-green as the bird-mask woman, if this would have happened to Naruto if they’d been in Jiraiya’s care.

The wolf inside her rumbled darkly, enraged at the man who would abandon his helpless pups, and Sansa wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him, not even if Naruto lived.

And if Naruto died… if Naruto died, well, there would be nowhere in the world that the man could hide from her wrath, even if it took years for this frail, helpless body to grow old and strong enough for her to take her revenge.

The strange men and women worked over her brother for a long time, with their strange magicks, odd bags of blood that they fed into him with a length of strange, clear piping, and another clear length of piping, no thicker than a quill, that they’d inserted into his lower neck through a small incision they’d made below the much larger wound– Sansa suspected, from its placement, that it was meant to help air reach Naruto’s lungs, though she was bewildered as to how it worked to do so.

Sansa made sure to stay silent the entire time, watching with a sharp focus that she knew would not go unnoticed, but did not care in this moment to worry herself over. That could come later, when she knew Naruto would live. The one time the striped-mask man tried to move away, to carry her from her brother, she had shrieked her rage, baring her gums at him... only, they weren’t just an infant’s gums anymore, and she wasn’t sure who was more surprised– her or the striped-mask man, who had stopped moving immediately at the sight.

Sansa remembered the sudden sharp pain and the mouthful of blood as she’d bared her gums at the attacker, back in those terrible moments when she’d thought Naruto was dead and the man was about to kill her too, but she’d been so distracted by Naruto and her own imminent death that she hadn’t noticed what it meant. Not until now, when she snapped her mouth shut and cautiously probed at the gums with her tongue.

Teeth. Sharp, pointy little teeth. Wolf-teeth.

Sansa had to restrain herself from peeling her lips back and smiling.

“What a terrifyingly protective little creature you are,” the striped-mask man murmured, so quietly she barely heard it. He stopped trying to move, at least, and Sansa was able to stay and watch as the men and women in their odd uniforms fought to save her brother’s life.

Chapter Text

FIVE

It took many hours, but finally the men and women working over Naruto stepped back, and one of them turned to the doorway to bow deeply. “He will live, Hokage-sama.” The woman said, her voice tired but sure. Striped-mask man turned in the direction that the woman had bowed, and Sansa was able to see for the first time that Hiruzen, the ruler– either Lord or Monarch, she was unsure– had entered the room at some point. He looked terribly weary, and also very relieved.

“Well done, Iyasu-sensei.” He complimented. “And, of course, your talented, hard-working team.”

“We live to serve, Hokage-sama.” The woman– Iyasu-sensei– told Hiruzen tiredly, and after bowing again, she and the rest of her ‘team’ filed out of the room. Once the door closed after them, the gentleness disappeared from Hiruzen’s eyes, leaving them hard and sharp and so very cold.

His eyes, in that moment, reminded Sansa of nothing more than a furious Lord Tywin.

“What,” Hiruzen asked, his voice low and furious, “happened?”

“…there have been rumours, Hokage-sama,” the rooster-mask woman said, after a silence that nobody seemed to want to break. “About the twins… and what has been sealed inside them.”

Feeling a prickle of premonition, Sansa closed her eyes, letting out a soft, sleepy little mewling sound and turning to press her face against the vest the striped-mask man was wearing. There was a brief pause, as if those in the room had been reminded of her presence, but Sansa ignored it, and focused on convincingly slowing her breathing to feign drifting off to sleep, just as the infant she had failed to act as this night would. Feigning unconsciousness was a useful skill, one she’d learned while married to Ramsay– he wasn’t interested in torturing her while she was unconscious; he liked her to be awake, to react; she was always hurt far less if she could keep up the act.

The conversation resumed around her; her act was apparently convincing enough, or people just really weren’t expecting subterfuge from a near-newborn. And a near-newborn she must pretend to be, as she had so stunningly failed to act these past hours.

“Hokage-sama…” the rooster-mask woman started again, “the rumours… the rumours are that one of the twins is the Kyuubi, and those who lost friends and family to the bijuu… they want revenge.”

“Gods-damnit!” Hiruzen snapped, and she could hear the frustration and stress both in his voice. “How did it leak? And how does that explain how someone got close enough to slit Naruto-kun’s throat?”

“I’m sorry, Hokage-sama, but I don’t know how it leaked. Yet.” The rooster-mask woman said, something steely in her voice. “But as for how the man, Adachi, got close enough to make an attempt on the Honorable Son’s life, I’m ashamed to say that the ANBU on duty thought that by turning a blind eye to Adachi’s movements, they were acting to aid in ridding Konoha of a potential threat.”

“Execute them– and this Adachi too.” Hiruzen said coldly, and Sansa could hear the vicious pleasure in the rooster-mask woman’s voice as she replied,

“With pleasure, Hokage-sama.”

“And Tori? While I understand and sympathise with the sentiment, I don’t want to hear you addressing either twin as the Honorable Son or Daughter again,” Hiruzen added sternly. “Their anonymity is for their own safety, as well as Konoha’s.”

“Of course, Hokage-sama. I apologise.” The rooster-mask woman– Tori– said.

There was a rustle of cloth, and Sansa realised that Hiruzen was walking over to her and striped-mask man.

“And how is little Fuyuko-chan, Tora?” Hiruzen asked, from right beside them now, and Sansa was very careful not to twitch as his hand briefly touched her head, even as the pressure of his fingers gently brushing over her small, oh-so fragile skull burned with potential threat. But she was used to that too, used to how Ramsay would trail the cold flat of a blade over her bare flesh as she faked unconsciousness, just waiting for any movement that would give her away. It had become almost a game between them; Sansa’s resolve, her resilience to accept threats and even pain without flinching, and Ramsay's cold, twisted amusement at how she held herself still and without resistance for him.

“She is in perfect health, Hokage-sama.” Striped-mask man– Tora– immediately reported.

“Then why is there blood around her mouth?” Hiruzen asked, sounding displeased.

“…it’s easier to show you, Hokage-sama,” Tora admitted, and Sansa made sure to make grumpy, sleepy sounds of displeasure as a gloved hand turned her small head to face the room and carefully forced her small mouth open with a leather-clad finger.

“Oh my,” Hiruzen said, sounding startled. “Are those…?”

“Teeth. Pointy ones. Like a fox.” Tora confirmed.

Sansa was immediately indignant; she was no Florent fox, she was a Stark, a wolf, and considering Tora still had his finger in her mouth, it gave her a good excuse to loudly let them know of her displeasure with an ear-splitting shriek of anger as she opened her eyes to glare.

“How did that happen?” Hiruzen asked, still startled, even as Tora hastily pulled back his finger.

“It’s some sort of physical manifestation caused by using the Kyuubi’s chakra, I think,” Tora said, and Hiruzen made a strangled sound.

“Using the Kyuubi’s chakra?” he demanded.

Sansa stirred, confused; what in the name of the Old Gods were they talking about? What was 'chakra'? And what did they mean, she'd used the Kyuubi's chakra? 

...and hadn't Jiraiya called the Fox-Beast that had been sealed into her and Naruto by Death 'Kyuubi'?

Sansa had to quell the infantile urge to whine in her confusion, instead focusing on the conversation around her. 

“It was how we knew something was wrong with the twins, Hokage-sama,” Tori spoke up again. “Tora, Uma, Risu and I were patrolling nearby, when we felt a brief flare of the Kyuubi’s chakra. We got there and found Naruto-kun bleeding out, and Adachi bending over little Fuyuko-chan with a kunai. Adachi later admitted to Usagi under interrogation that he should have had time to kill both of them, but feeling the Kyuubi’s chakra sent him straight into a flashback.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Hiruzen said heavily. “I’ll have to recall Jiraiya to check over the seals, but he’s confident that Minato made no mistakes and I trust his judgment. Tori– I want that interrogation classified, and Adachi dead before he can talk to anyone. Nobody can ever know that an infant Jinchūriki was able to tap into their bijuu’s power– consider it a For The Hokage Only class secret. Go now.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.” Tori bowed, and then in a blink, she was gone. Hiruzen turned back to Tora.

“Any ANBU on Jinchūriki duty is now to be thoroughly vetted by T&I first,” he ordered. “And I want Iyasu-sensei vetted too before she’s allowed to return and treat Naruto-kun; she is now the only medic allowed to treat him and must be supervised at all times when treating him. Nobody else is allowed near either twin, not until this situation is dealt with. Understood?”

“Understood, Hokage-sama.” Tora said, nodding his head deeply, as he couldn’t bow with Sansa in his arms.

Hiruzen sighed, sounding and looking exhausted as he turned back to look over at Naruto, small and limp and pale on the bed. Someone had changed the bedding, replacing the bloodstained sheets with fresh, white ones; they made Sansa's bright little brother look pale and washed out. “I had hoped to avoid this,” Hiruzen said heavily, “I had hoped the twins could grow up in obscurity. But if their Jinchūriki status is already starting to leak through the shinobi ranks… I fear that it won’t take long for the civilians to learn too. It’s going to be hard times ahead of them, I fear.”

“We’ll keep them safe, Hokage-sama,” Tora promised, “we won’t let anything like this happen again.”

“Protecting them from physical injury will only be half the battle,” Hiruzen said grimly. “There are hard times ahead for the twins. I fear it will be an unfriendly, hostile world that they will find themselves growing up in.”

And with that unsettling statement, Hiruzen turned and left the room. Tora let out a low sound.

“Gods, you both deserve better,” he murmured as he crossed the room and carefully lowered her down so she was laid out on the bed beside Naruto. Sansa immediately reached for her brother, splaying her little hand over his chest in a movement that looked deceptively like the simple flailing of an infant, but was more a sort of controlled-chaos of her uncooperative limb. Feeling the rise and fall of Naruto’s chest, however, and the thudding of his heart under her palm, Sansa finally felt as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

She would worry about everything else later, she decided; in that moment, she was just heart-wrenchingly grateful that her brother would live.

Sansa dozed off with her hand on Naruto’s small chest. It was an exhausted sleep, after the turmoil of the past few hours, and she wasn’t at all pleased to be woken by a disturbance.

People were arguing near her, and she let out an unhappy sound, feeling tired and grumpy and not at all in the mood for anything other than more rest. Before she could try to go back to sleep, however, the arguing voices briefly raised in volume, followed by a thud and then someone was bursting into the room.

Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the youth who’d just charged in. He was short, dressed in the same odd clothing as everyone else wore, with silver-grey hair– nothing like the platinum-silver of the Targaryens, thank the gods, or she’d be reacting far less neutrally– a strip of material with some engraved metal sewn into it was slanted over one of his eyes, and nearly all the rest of his face covered by some sort of tight black cloth.

The youth, for he couldn’t be more than ten-and-four or ten-and-five namedays old, not quite yet a man grown, stopped just short of the bed, his chest heaving, the heavy stink of panic and fear and grief wafting unpleasantly off him. Sansa stirred, uneasy but uncertain that the boy was a threat. This was confirmed for her as the silver-haired youth made a broken, grief-stricken sound as he bent over them. The look in his single visible eye was the look of a drowning man, and Sansa instinctively shied away, her small lungs tightening with the ghost of old memories and painful lessons.

When Sansa was very little, barely five namedays old, she and Robb had snuck out to play by Winterfell’s hot springs, only for Robb to slip in and sink under the water’s surface. When Sansa, shrieking loud enough to bring the castle down, had tried to pull him out, the panicking Robb had accidentally dragged her in after him, and water had immediately forced its way down her throat, into her lungs, as her heavy skirts had dragged her straight down, under the surface.

They’d both nearly drowned that day, and it had been her Tully mother who’d saved them. Catelyn had bruised Sansa’s ribs black and blue, beating the water out of her lungs, forcing air into Sansa’s body until she was able to breathe on her own– Catelyn was from the Riverlands, after all, and she knew how to bring the half-drowned back to life.

Catelyn had spoken to her afterwards, voice soft and gentle as Sansa had trembled and sobbed wretchedly. She’d told Sansa to never try to pull a drowning person out of the water, because they’d just pull her in too and they’d both drown. Sansa hadn’t ever forgotten her mother’s gentle wisdom, or the lesson, hard-earned and painful. This silver-haired youth, with his drowning expression, could mean nothing good for her– or her brother.

“Kakashi!” Tora wheezed, stumbling into the room, one hand pressed to his neck, as if he’d recently been delivered a blow there, “you’re disobeying the Hokage’s orders! You can’t be here!”

“They nearly died!” The youth– Kakashi– rasped, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “They nearly died, and nobody told me!”

Tora sighed. “I know, kid, I know,” he said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “But orders are orders, and until you’re cleared by T&I to be here, you need to leave. If you go now, I won’t even tell anyone about this… lapse.”

Kakashi made a strangled sound and reached out with trembling hands to gently, so, so gently, touch her and Naruto’s wrists. It took Sansa a moment to realise he was feeling for their pulse, and she felt enough sympathy for him that, against her much better judgment, she used what little coordination she had to flail her other arm over to catch one of his fingers with her small hand and squeeze as hard as she could. Which wasn’t very hard at all, but it was enough that Kakashi froze, his visible eye widening in blatant shock to an almost humorous degree.

“What is she doing?” he hissed, panicked. “Why is she grabbing me?”

“It’s a reflex all babies have, Kakashi,” Tora said dryly. “I mean, I’m pretty sure babies aren’t supposed to start reaching out to grab things until they’re three or four months old–” whoops– “but Fuyuko-chan is the daughter of two geniuses. It’s not surprising she’s ahead of her milestones.”

Kakashi made a barely audible, broken sound when Tora mentioned Sansa was the daughter of two geniuses, his whole body flinching.

“I need to go.” He said abruptly, and Sansa blinked in shock as the youth disappeared in a swirl of leaves, leaving her hand empty, her fingers grasping at air.

“Because it’s not like I wasn’t just telling you to go,” Tora muttered, sounding exasperated as he rubbing his neck, wincing. “What a mess.”

Deciding that the drama was over for now, Sansa determinedly closed her eyes, rolling her head away from Tora and focusing on the sound of her brother’s breathing, letting it lull her back to sleep.  

*Sansa refers to the Hokage as 'Hiruzen', because she's not aware it's his first name, not his last, and she's also currently unaware of the social customs of the Elemental Nations. 

Chapter Text

A/N: warning- this is not for Daenerys Targaryen fans. Also, probably not for Jon or Jonsa fans. If it's not your thing, you can skip the back-story, which is a season eight AU, but please don't leave negative comments or troll comments, because they will be deleted. There won't actually be much negativity, just in the chapters that deal directly with Sansa's life in Westeros. 

SIX

The thick, rich iron perfume of blood lingered on Naruto for days after the attack. Sansa hated it. She clung to her brother, the most present she had been since that first, awful night, rubbing her cheek against his every time he so much as whimpered; her poor brother was so exhausted, so afraid, the way no babe should ever be. She curled herself up around him, like a pair of wolf pups, unwilling to let either of them expose their tender bellies in such an unsafe den.

Sansa ached for her brother; life for a babe was rough, even if it didn’t outwardly appear so. Everything was big, bright and new, and Naruto had no mother to nurse him lovingly at her breast, no father to cradle him protectively in safe arms. All her brother had was her own small form curled up around him, her tiny, still-mostly uncooperative arms doing their very best to hold him tight when he sobbed and wailed, his little face red and puffy from tears, only for nobody to ever come soothe him; no wet nurse, no maid, not even one of the masked guards who stood so impassively as Naruto cried and cried until his voice turned hoarse.

Her heart bled for him, even as the wolf inside her, furious and wild, howled its rage at the blatant neglect. Her brother was suffering, yet these people did nothing, all of them did nothing! It reminded her in part of her time as a hostage at the Red Keep, where everybody had turned a blind eye to how she was tormented, and it made her rage. Sansa could and had been accused of many wrongdoings by her enemies over the years, but doing nothing? That had never been a crime she had committed.

When Naruto wasn’t crying, or feeding, he slept. Sansa slept too, but not as much as her brother. Instead, she often let her mind drift, her brother a warm weight in her arms. It was easy to let her mind wander and just float away. 

Sometimes she thought about Westeros. She could so vividly picture herself running through the woods of Winterfell, the spring snow crunching beneath her feet, the nip of the breeze against her face. Other times, she felt she was curled up in a dimly lit den, surrounded by warm, furry bodies and a sense of pack. Once, she even thought she was looking up at Arya, at her sister clad in yellow-and-black, her dark hair loose and wind-tousled as it fell about her shoulders, subtle lines of age evident on her face, Argella laughing at her side, storm-blue eyes bright and laughing.

Sansa had violently jerked back to the small room then, back to her frail, feeble, infant body, tears spilling down her cheeks, howling her grief like the wolf she was, her heart shredded in her chest. It set Naruto off too, and it had taken over an hour for them to both stop crying. Eventually, Tora had emerged from wherever he was hiding to run gentle, soothing hands over their backs until they stopped sobbing.

But remembering Arya and her daughter, Sansa's dear niece, picturing their faces, it forced her to face what she purposefully had been avoiding since her rebirth; her death.

She wondered what songs the bards of Westeros sung about her, now that she had stepped into the Stranger’s embrace. She remembered well how they praised Cersei, “Light of the West” “The Lioness Queen” as she lived, and how the vilified her, “Mad Queen” “Brother Fucker” as she died. Sansa could only imagine the titles they called her now; “Warmonger”, “Wolf-Bitch”, “Whore-Queen”…

Sansa turned her small face so it was pressed into the warm curve of Naruto’s neck, hiding from their masked watchers. She’d always known better then to show weakness. Any misstep, mistake or weakness in her conduct would be quickly identified by her allies and enemies alike, and much like crows on carrion, descended ravenously upon. To show her vulnerable throat would only ever get it ripped out. Nobles had been taught since the cradle how to prey upon weakness and Sansa had spent her childhood at the Red Keep been picked apart by sweet, merciless smiles and cruel, honeyed words.

Breathing in the warmth and slight musky smell that was Naruto, Sansa sighed softly as she thought of Arya, of the North, of Westeros. She had to confess, if only to herself, she had never expected to die old. Not after what she’d done. Not when she’d succeeded where Daenerys Targaryen had failed.

Sansa was patient. She wasn’t reckless, or impulsive. She could wait, and she could plan. She could let her enemies fight each other until they had cleared the board and then she could wait for them to grow complacent in their victory before she moved in. Did that make her the villain? Perhaps. But so be it, she knew the truth of the world; there were no heroes. In life, the monsters win. Her family, her pack, her kingdom– they came first, and she’d tear out the throats of any and all who threatened them. And Daenerys Targaryen? She had been a threat.

It was such a simple plan, in the end. She had been inspired by Tywin Lannister and Olenna Tyrell both; two of the oldest living players in the Game of Thrones. She didn’t believe that was a coincidence.

Amidst the chaos of the aftermath White Walkers, with Daenerys Targaryen’s army lurking in the North and the battle against Cersei for the Iron Throne on the horizon, Sansa had learned the truth of Jon’s heritage, the terrible truth her lord-father had kept from her lady-mother, a truth that could have seen them all slaughtered during Robert Baratheon's reign. It was immediately clear what she must do– for her family’s safety, and for the North.

Jon was easy to seduce; he may have fancied himself in love with his Dragon-Queen Aunt, but he spent his entire childhood yearning for the acceptance of the Stark family, to really, truly be one of them, and it was the Lady Catelyn Stark who had denied him that acceptance most viciously and contemptuously.

It was not the first time Sansa had manipulated a man through her resemblance to her Lady Mother.

It was not the last, either.

It had not been wholly necessary for his seed to take for her plan to work. It would be a bonus, without doubt, but not necessary. Jon had betrayed his Dragon Queen, betrayed Daenerys Targaryen, for her, for Sansa Stark, and they both knew it– it was the axe over his neck, the sword to his throat, the dagger to his heart, and it was she who held it there. If Daenerys was victorious, if she seized the Iron Throne from Cersei’s cold, dead hands, for that was the only way the Lannister Lioness would ever give it up, then Sansa would threaten Jon into convincing Daenerys to accept the North’s independence, lest she reveal their secret to the Dragon Queen. 

Jon hated her for it, Sansa knew. She just didn’t care. She couldn’t afford to, not when there were so many relying on her to maintain the Northern Independence Jon had so thoughtlessly thrown away. Jon accused her of wanting to be queen, of course. Of wanting power, and not caring who she hurt to get what she wanted. Sansa had laughed in his face. He was a man, what did he know of wanting power? For that matter, what did he know of being powerless? 

When Jon accused her, when men accused any woman, of being power-hungry, she wondered how they could ever think why she would not be– not when the more power she had, the less chance there was of her being hurt.

In the end Jon left to go South with his Dragon Queen and Sansa stayed North, where she knelt before a weirwood and accepted a crown before her people while Daenerys massacred a city and sat herself atop a bloody throne.

The game could have ended there, in a stale-mate. Cersei's armies had taken out the last of Daenerys' dragons and depleted the numbers of the Unsullied and Dothraki Screamers to the point that Jon's arguments for Northern Independence had managed to sway Daenerys. Sansa honestly could have accepted such a stale-mate, except for the lingering fear. What if Daenerys found more dragon eggs? 

Everybody knew she was searching for them. Everyone knew the extravagant price she was willing to pay for one.  Since her father's execution, Sansa had lived with the bitter taste of fear on her tongue. She was determined not to live in fear any longer. And if that meant she had to keep playing the game... Well, at least she had had the very best teachers– and a stroke of great fortune, for Jon’s seed did take. Sansa should have expected it; she was her mother’s daughter, after all. 

As she and Brienne grew round with child together, for a short time it appeared as if the wars were over and the foreign Queen would rule over Six Kingdoms. Oh, it was not a happy reign, which was very Targaryen, really. At least Robert Baratheon’s reign had managed at least a degree of stability, in spite of Robert– until Robert’s death anyway. The Westerosi resented the foreigners Daenerys had brought to their land, resented more mouths to feed, resented the tens of thousands that had to go hungry because of the crops she’d burned.

Occasionally eyes strayed North, Sansa knew, but Tyrion Lannister was a clever man and an even clever Hand to the Queen, and he kept Daenerys in power, having her publicly wed a legitimised Jon to tie her to Westeros and its people, though the whispers that she was barren somehow became public knowledge. 

(Arya was an excellent Mistress of Whispers with all her little strays)

And then, just as it seemed her clever, clever, ex-husband was getting on top all the rumours again, Sansa finally gave birth, a long, torturous, agonising ordeal, one made even more torturous for the fact that her lady-mother was not there to sit with her through the contractions. But it was all worth it when the pain was over and she was cradling in her arms a perfect silver-haired, purple-eyed babe. Exhausted, sweat-drenched and almost delirious with delight, Sansa couldn’t help but laugh as she named him Torrhen, kissing his sticky brow and telling him that one day he would be King.

The other kingdoms underestimated the Starks. They always had, and Sansa didn’t bother to correct them. After all, there was nothing more dangerous than loyalty. In Robert’s Rebellion only the Northern forces had answered in full when the Banners were called to Arms. When the Heir of Winterfell called the Banners for his father, Lord Stark, the North answered without hesitation. When the white-walkers raised the wights, the North needed no evidence other than the word of a Stark to raise their standards and march into battle against nightmares carved of ice and death.

And when Torrhen Stark claimed the Iron Throne, she already knew the North would rally behind him, united.

It had been a good plan, Sansa thought, nuzzling against Naruto’s neck. The sort that all her mentors, the willing and the unwitting, would be proud of. Face hidden from their watchers, she smiled at the memory of how it had all unfolded. They could call her Warmonger if they wished. They could call her Wolf-Bitch and Whore-Queen. It didn’t matter. She was one of the She-Wolves of Winterfell; she was the Queen-Mother, the Queen in the North, the Mother of a Dynasty.

By the bloody end, she had finally been powerful enough to protect the ones she loved, powerful enough that she hadn’t feared for their safety, feared that they would be stolen from her, that their lives would be snuffed out by forces beyond her control.

She might be frail and helpless now, in a way she hadn’t ever been before, not even when she was a hostage in the Red Keep, at the mercy of a mad boy-king, but Sansa swore to herself, and to the innocent babe she was curled around, that she would not be weak for long. She would grow strong, to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. 

A/N: So, this is obviously an AU of Season Eight. I wanted Sansa to have more of a shinobi mindset, so she's Darker and more manipulative, more willing to go to extremes to get shit done for those she loves. Naruto is now her sole living family member and she's going to be willing to raze Konoha to ashes for him. The rest of her life in Westeros and her death will be revealed later. Hope you enjoyed! And if you're a Daenerys or Jon fan, I'm sorry guys! 

Chapter Text

SEVEN

Sansa was letting her mind drift again as Naruto slept, floating away to where she was small and furred, curled up with her packmates, when a large, furred face looked over her, golden eyes glowing like twin suns, long fangs like ivory blades set in a gaping, black-lipped maw. “Hello Dream-Walker,” The Wolf rumbled, and oh, Sansa thought, before she was blinking, back in her own body, little gasps falling from her lips.

Beside her, Naruto made a sleepy noise, and she absentmindedly patted his shoulder with a tiny hand, soothing him enough that he shuffled his way back to sleep.

Oh, she thought again, staring up at the unchanging ceiling, because it all made sense now, didn’t it? The strange not-dreams, the ones she thought were just waking dreams, like the ones she used to have when Ramsay raped her, when her mind went away from her body and she’d imagine she was a bird flying above Winterfell, or a horse sleeping the stables. But Bran– or rather, the godling who used to be Bran– had spoken of the dreams he’d once had, of warging into ravens and wolves and people. It was a Stark magic, he’d told her, and perhaps the dreams had never been dreams, perhaps the magic had always been hers to wield, as a Stark, and–

Arya, Sansa thought, sudden and breathless, she’d seen Arya!

She closed her eyes, imagining that moment again. Arya had been in the godswood at Winterfell, clad in a tight-fitted black doublet over a yellow silk shirt with matching black breeches and black leather boots. Argella, the future Lady of Storm’s End once she came of age, had been at her side, wearing a woollen yellow dress, yellow silk ribbons in her black braids, her stormy blue eyes bright with laughter.

They were both alive, and Sansa could allow herself the comfort of that fact. She wasn’t sure how she had glimpsed into another world– Dream Walking, the talking wolf had called it– and she was glad she had, she was more glad then words could possibly describe, but if she was to survive this then she couldn’t dwell on the past. It was a lesson she had learned decades ago when she was forced to stare at her father’s rotting head by the boy she knew she must one day marry, must one day share a marriage bed with, and bear the children of. She couldn’t dwell on the past because that way lay madness. She had to focus on the present, she had to focus on Naruto, on a way to use this Dream Walking, this warging, to help him.

He was all that mattered.

Now that Sansa knew what she was doing it was easy to close her eyes and let her mind let herself drift away. She had been practicing without realising for far longer than she had ever realised, and now that she knew what she was doing it came naturally to her. She reached for closer, simpler minds, and suddenly she was fluttering about on swift wings, ducking and weaving over a village the likes of which she’d never seen before.

This must be Konoha, she realised. This was the village the Fox-Beast had been trying to destroy– and he’d done a good job of it too, if the mass destruction was anything to go by. She fluttered down to get a closer at one of the ruined houses, the architecture entirely foreign to her, only to be struck by something from behind, the long, thin weapon skewering her small body and knocking her from the sky. Sansa didn’t even have time to feel more pain before she was hurled out of the sparrow’s mind as its life blinked out.

The moment she was back in her own body, Sansa opened her mouth and screamed. She didn’t even care that she woke Naruto in that moment, not when she could still feel the phantom sensation of sharpened metal speared through hollow bones, piercing her fluttering heart; a senseless death. Naruto started screaming too, not understanding why she was so distraught, but still so distraught for her. Sansa clutched desperately at him with needy hands, sobbing wretchedly and filled with so much rage that it burned. She hated feeling helpless, she hated feeling weak, but that had terrified her.

I will be stronger, she promised herself, as she held her sobbing brother and they cried together. I will be smarter. I will be better then them all. I am a Stark... and I am an Uzumaki. I WILL be stronger.

~

It took longer than Sansa would like to admit for her to try warging again. But weeks of being trapped in the same room, staring at a ceiling, her only interactions being with her infant brother who mainly slept or cried and the woman who changed their soiled small-clothes, fed them and bathed them without ever once saying a word to them, was enough to make her desperate.

She didn’t try warging in Konoha again. This time, she let herself just drift, let her mind wander where it wished. And somehow, she wasn’t even surprised when she ended up in the wolf den again, where she was just one furry little wolf pup amongst the rest. Sansa snuggled in with her litter-mates, wriggling around them to pile up, only to yip in surprise when a large nose knocked her off the puppy pile, nudging her so she was forced to stumble on clumsy paws to the entrance of the den, then out into the forest, under a moon that hung full and heavy in the dark, velvet sky.

The Wolf settled down in front of Sansa, crouching on her haunches, and in the light Sansa was able to see her properly. She was enormous, far bigger than even a direwolf, closer in size to the elephants of the Golden Company. Her fur was pale as the full moon and her gleaming eyes were as golden as the sun. She was beautiful, and so very wild.

The Wolf spoke first.

“Hello again Dream Walker,” she said, gracefully dipping her head.

Sansa tried to speak, to introduce herself and explain why she was there, and was very disgruntled when only a squeaky-sounding yip came out. The Wolf laughed, a rumbling sound. “I’m afraid my pup is too young to speak, Dream Walker. Give her a few months yet.” The Wolf crouched down then, so they were eye-level with each other, and her large golden eyes looked deep into Sansa’s own. “I see now,” she said. “There is a great bond between you and my Kita.”

And Sansa... Sansa went very still. It was probably a coincidence, she told herself. It was probably a coincidence that this wolf pup that she kept warging into had been named North, like she had been named Winter Child. But– what if? Did she dare hope? Tremulously, she tentatively asked;

Lady?

Moments later, she was almost knocked out of the pup’s mind by–

giddy/love/welcome/missed you sansa/finally together!

If Sansa could cry, she’d be sobbing. As it was, she whimpered and frantically licked her own paws in an effort to try and show Lady– Kita?– how much she loved and had missed her too.

“You’re going to take good care of my Kita,” the Wolf said suddenly, reminding Sansa of her presence. Sansa looked up to see the Wolf gazing down at her, at them, with something very much like approval in her large, golden eyes. “My name is Tsukiko, Dream Walker. One day, I expect to hear yours.”

Sansa nodded solemnly and Tsukiko gave a wolfy grin. “They will sing songs of you,” she said, and for a moment her voice had a strange after-beat that sounded as if many other voices, ancient and wild and howling, were speaking alongside her, echoing her words.

They have already sung songs of me, Sansa thought to herself, shaken by the strange occurrence. It hadn’t done her much good in her first life... or perhaps that was the bitterness of her death talking. She had accomplished more than most. After all, she was the one who had, dare she say it, won the Game of Thrones. Her death was inconsequential in the face of her greatest of victories.

Tsukiko, apparently unconcerned by what had just taken place, leaned forwards and licked her. Sansa yipped in surprise before stumbling forwards when Tsukiko nudged her back in the direction of the den. “Sleep now, little one,” she said, her voice a low rumble, and Sansa knew better then to argue with a wolf with teeth the size of a broadsword. Bounding clumsily back into the den, she happily burrowed into the puppy pile of Lady’s litter-mates, who all nuzzled up against her as Tsukiko curled up around them.

Sansa could even feel Lady’s presence curled around her.

safe/happy/my sansa/mama/pack/

I love you too Lady, Sansa cooed adoringly, unable to believe this wonderful second chance.

Now she had two precious pack-mates to protect in this new world, Naruto and Lady, and she would do everything in her power to keep them safe and happy, she swore to herself.

~

Over the next few moons, when Naruto sleeping, Sansa found herself returning to Lady. She was quick to learn the names of Lady’s litter-mates– Gin, Haya, Katsu and Suki– and it didn’t take long for her to become coordinated enough in Lady’s body to play with the other pups, Tsukiko always lounging nearby, watching over them with an indulgent eye.

The exuberance of the pups amused Sansa and she couldn’t stop herself from doting on them the best she could, always nuzzling them, grooming their ears, nudging them along when they dawdled after spotting something interesting.

“You were a mother, once, weren’t you?” Tsukiko asked her one day, after Sansa had fussed over Gin for sneaking off; the silver-furred pup was sly as a fox and clearly unrepentant about giving Sansa the fright of her life when she realised she’d lost him. Tsukiko had managed to turn the entire frightful ordeal into a lesson for Sansa on tracking by scent and they’d found Gin eventually, but Sansa had been half out of her mind with worry by then, only keeping herself together in order to function enough so that she could find the pup.

Sansa flinched at Tsukiko’s question, her hackles raising as she looked away from those knowing golden eyes.

hurts/poor sansa/misses her pups?

Tsukiko didn’t ask again, and Sansa was relieved.

I do, Lady. I miss my pups.

Sansa wished she could bring Naruto with her to Tsukiko’s den. If she could, then she’d never have to leave. He’d be so much happier with a pack and an entire forest to explore, not just one small room. They were hardly ever even moved out of their shared cradle and while Sansa was able to escape the discomfort by leaving her body behind, Naruto didn’t have that option and as the moons continued to pass with no change to their routine, Sansa grew more and more concerned. There was only so much she could do to help Naruto and keep him entertained and happy.

She did her very best, of course. Her tiny, feeble body had finally grown and matured enough that she could form clumsy sentences to babble at him– well, she was sure it sounded like babbling; in truth, she was speaking to her brother in the Old Tongue. She had no intention of letting any watchers become aware that she was capable of true speech, so only spoke to him in what would appear to be a ‘nonsense’ language just in case she ever missed their presence. She didn’t think she would, she could usually feel them, but she was still careful.

Admittedly, nobody in Konoha would know Common Tongue either, and it was a simpler dialect then the Old Tongue, but she hadn’t wanted all those countless hours of hard work learning the Old Tongue gone to waste, not after having to ask Tormund and the Free Folk to help her learn it, interested in knowing more of her Northern heritage after accepting her crown. She also knew Valyrian, as considering just who had ruled the neighbouring Six Kingdoms it would have been foolish not to, but she’d rather swallow glass then willingly speak that language.

As well as “babbling” to her brother (in truth; sing to him, recite stories to him, tell him of her life before this one), she also played basic games that she thought she could get away with. These were basically just letting him grab her hand or arm and wave it around– they didn’t have any toys or pillows, nothing that she could even try to make a plaything out of, so she let herself be his doll.

Their entire situation was unforgivable, in Sansa’s opinion, but she didn’t start to think it a danger to their lives until Naruto figured out how to stand up in their cradle by holding the edges of the bars. She didn’t even dare go visit Lady and Tsukiko after the first time she saw him do it because she was so terrified he’d climb out and fall to the ground while she was gone.

Sansa found herself a sickening combination of terrified and furious. Being furious wasn’t unusual for her. She was often furious about their situation. She and Naruto had been left in this room, in this single shared cradle, with only a silent caretaker who never spoke to them and did the very bare minimum in caring for them. They didn’t even wear proper clothing, just their frequently soiled small-clothes, and the only other people they saw were the occasional masked watchers, who were completely silent and mostly lingered out of sight– she only ever knew they were there because she could feel their presence.

This fury, however, was different. It was an icy fury, so cold that it burned. It was this fury that had led to a massacre during her reign that the bards of Westeros had memorialised with the ballad “The Ice Queen of the North”, which had become just as infamous as “The Rains of Castemere”. Sansa hated Konoha and everyone in it. All of them. It burned through her like ice and as she clenched her sharp, pointed teeth so hard they cut into her own gums, filling her mouth with the hot, iron tang of blood, she could swear she heard an eerie, distant sound; dark, hateful, pained (lonely).

It almost sounded like a voice.

When Sansa pushed herself up to a sitting position, though, something that had gotten easier in the last turn of the moon, and looked around the small room, she could see no evidence of any life other than her or Naruto. The small space was as bland, boring, and lifeless as usual, and with a sigh Sansa flopped back down next to Naruto.

Her brother whimpered and turned pleading blue eyes to her, his lower lip trembling. Sansa, unable to resist such a look, immediately broke and started singing to him, an old Northern lullaby that Old Nan had sung to her and her brothers and sister, many decades ago. She’d always thought it was creepy. In hindsight, she wished she’d paid better attention to it.

“Hair like snow, eyes that gleam, things aren’t always what they seem. Teeth too long, hands too thin– always look beneath the skin!”*

Lullabies wouldn’t work forever to keep Naruto distracted though, Sansa knew, her heart sinking. And she was right. Four days after Naruto learned how to pull himself up to standing, during which Sansa had slept maybe three hours total in her fear, the inevitable happened; Sansa dozed off, exhausted, and Naruto climbed over the edge of the cradle and fell, head first, to the ground.

His scream woke her, and her scream was quick to join his. He’d clearly landed head first and while Sansa might not be a maester, she knew enough to know that wasn’t a good thing, especially not for such a young child. Heart pounding in her chest, Sansa shrieked at the top of her lungs, despite knowing it was useless. There were no watchers nearby that she could feel and the lady that looked after them never paid attention to their screams. She wouldn’t know that something out of the ordinary had happened. She wouldn’t come to see what was wrong.

To Sansa’s horror, Naruto had stopped screaming, instead he just looked up at her, dazed, eyes half-lidded. Considering the steadily seeping blood she could see, Sansa knew that her brother going quiet was not a good sign. Her panic soared as she seized the sides of the cradle, yanking herself upright to a standing position, desperately wracking her brain. What could she do? How could she help her brother?

The answer came to her in a flash. That horrible night when she’d almost lost Naruto, almost twelve turns of the moon ago now, that masked woman, Tori, had said the reason she’d known something was wrong was because she’d felt the Fox-Beast’s– the Kyuubi’s– chakra.

Sansa tried not to think about the Fox-Beast– it made her feel ill and horribly violated to think of the Beast trapped beneath her and her brother’s skin, like she wanted to scrub and scrub her body until her flesh was red and raw and hers, but she couldn’t think about that now– Naruto was what was important. She wasn’t sure what chakra was, but she remembered the night she’d almost died a second time only too well. She had felt such rage, such hatred and fury towards Adachi for– she had assumed at the time, considering he had slit her brother’s throat– killing Naruto that she had wished to deliver such torture unto him that he would have begged for Ramsay’s fate and called it a kindness once she was done with him.

Was that what she needed to feel, then, to create the ‘flare’ that Tori had described? She was certainly feeling the same fear she had felt that night; the stink of her and her brother’s fear had filled the room. And her rage– her rage was a vicious, frozen thing, so cold that it burned inside her veins. Hatred, though… that night, all her hatred had been focused on one man. But not tonight. Tonight was different. Baring her small fangs, Sansa gripped the edge of the cradle and hated Konoha with every raging-fearful-burning-loving part of herself.

Sansa saw red, and when she blinked, she wasn’t in the small room any longer. She wasn’t Dream Walking either, she knew, because this was different. This was different, because she was standing in the godswood of Winterfell; or at least, somewhere similar to the godswood of Winterfell, except this heart-tree towered over her, taller even then Winterfell’s highest tower, and the weirwood trees surrounding the heart-tree were arranged in a perfect circle, their branches stretching across, intertwined with each other, making an impenetrable cage.

And within that cage, standing under the canopy of the arching branches of the heart-tree, nine blood-red, fiery tails swishing lazily, tongue lolling from fanged jaws in a gaping grin, red slit eyes gleaming, was the Kyuubi.

Chapter Text

EIGHT

Sansa stared at the Fox-Beast, the Kyuubi. It was as terrifyingly magnificent as she remembered; towering high, burning a fiery red and smiling. There were terrible things in that smile; razor teeth and crimson death and the meaty crunch of crushed bone.

Sansa wanted nothing more than to run screaming as fast as her short legs could manage, but the she-wolf inside her reared up and snarled, refusing to show its throat, to bare its tender belly. Her pup was in trouble and she swore an oath, she swore she would do anything she could to protect him, and Sansa Stark and Fuyuko Uzumaki both were no oathbreakers. From porcelain to ivory to steel, she reminded herself, and then she stepped towards the cage of weirwood trees. Towards the Fox-Beast.

Its terrible grin widened as she approached, wobbly and unsure on her tiny legs. She could count on one hand the number of times she had walked in this body, but she was determined and she made sure to hold herself with all the grace and poise her lady-mother had once taught her.

As she drew closer, the heart-tree drew her eye. Or rather, the glaring abnormality on its snow-pale trunk. Where the face should be carved, blood-red and dripping, there were lines of ink, thick and black, swirling and twisting in a strange pattern. A seal, she vaguely recognised it as– like the one Minato had drawn on her stomach. It looked like art, like a painting, except something about it itched in Sansa's head. It irritated her, like a pebble in her shoe. It made her fingers twitch and she couldn't help her frown. Apparently the Fox-Beast noticed.

"Clumsy work, I know," it said, and its voice... she recognised that voice, so dark and hateful. She'd heard it before, that faint echo in the moments her emotions ran darkest. "No Uzumaki would ever create such a seal." The Fox-Beast added. It almost sounded disdainful, like the inferior work was an insult to it. It may very well be. Sansa supposed being trapped in a cage built by an amateur would be a blow to her pride. It would feel... disrespectful. And humiliating.

Immediately, she had a notion of the approach she should take with the Fox-Beast (but no, she should not call it Beast, not when the Fox showed such human intelligence). She had faced dangerous opponents before; she had negotiated hostages, argued trade agreements, written treaties, sued for peace, proposed new laws and so much more with enemies and allies alike in the greatest of games, the game of thrones. Her mind and her diplomacy were two of her greatest weapons, and she wielded both with deadly precision. This would be no exception.

Her tiny body could barely stand upright, but Sansa dipped into the best curtesy she could before the Fox, only wobbling slightly. "I am Sansa Stark, your grace," she felt the address was apt, for the Fox must surely be Royalty amongst Foxes, "and I am also known by Fuyuko Uzumaki*."

"You are young for such a burden, Sansa Stark, who is also known by Fuyuko Uzumaki," the Fox rumbled, and Sansa tasted smoke and ashes, felt a heat scorching her where the Fox stepped closer, hungry flames flickering and crackling along the edges of her vision. "Many who are decades older than you have shattered and broken, twisted beyond recognition, beneath such a weight."

"And what is it that I am, your grace?" She asked softly.

The Fox bared his teeth in that terrible smile, predator-sharp and crimson and blood-dripping.

"You are a Sacrifice."

Sansa smiled back at him, baring her own sharp little fangs. "Of course I am," she said. "I am a woman."

The Fox was silent for a moment. Her answer seemed to have surprised it. She didn't have time for it to be surprised.

"I apologise most sincerely, your grace, but I have come to entreat upon your goodwill, knowing that I have very little to offer you in return," she said, bowing her head humbly before it. "My brother is gravely injured and to gain the attention needed for him to receive help I must flare your chakra."

The Fox tilted its head, as if curious. "Why my chakra?" It asked. Sansa decided to take it as a good sign that it hadn't outright refused.

"Because he is grievously hurt as we speak, perhaps even dying, in the locked room we have spent our entire lives in, all while the caretaker who is our jailor, who has not spoken one word to us our entire lives and ignores our existence, remains ignorant to his screams, his pain, and his injury," Sansa answered honestly.

The Fox snarled, suddenly furious, and it was terrifying in its fury. Despite herself, Sansa couldn't help but tremble in the face of it. "Liar!" It accused, the roar loud enough to make her entire body rattle, "you pathetic little sack of bones! You are trying to manipulate me!"

Sansa shook her head, pointing up with a trembling hand. "That is impossible, your grace," she said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts, "we are standing beneath a heart-tree," she told it, for the branches of the towering heart-tree were far-reaching within this strange space Sansa was beginning to suspect must be within her mind. The pale branches with their blood-red leaves stretched far out beyond the cage of weirwood trees and over the sky she stood beneath. "No one can lie beneath a heart-tree."

The Fox swished its nine tails agitatedly. "You are too young," it repeated its earlier words. "Too young to feel such deep hatred. I have felt you. I have felt the depths of your rage, your spite, your hate. You have enough darkness in you that you to physically manifest aspects of my being, and that is no small thing."

Sansa shook her head. "I am not young," she said, for she could not lie to this being, not before the heart-tree. "This body may still be at a toddling age, but I am a woman grown, a woman who died and was reborn. I am a woman who loves my pup, a little boy who is innocent and dying, who I swore an oath to protect from harm, and I am not an oathbreaker. Name your price, your grace."

The Fox leaned forwards, its hot breath washing over her like the heat of a Dornish desert in summer. "You say you cannot lie beneath this tree? You say you are not an oathbreaker?" It demanded.

"I do," Sansa replied, steady and sure as the stones of Winterfell. "And I am not."

"Then my price for your brother's life is my freedom," the Fox snarled. "I will give you my chakra, I will help save your whelp, and in return you will dedicate yourself to learning the art of sealing until you can free me from this cage!"

"Oh," Sansa said, and then she smiled. "I thought you were going to ask for something difficult." Fox looked so surprised it was almost humorous. She wasn't sure why she'd shocked it. It had felt her hatred. It must know how she wanted Konoha to burn. Why wouldn't she wish to free the Fox, when she knew it wanted to do just that?

"I will dedicate myself to learning the art of sealing until I can free you, in exchange for your aid. This I swear by blood and bone," she vowed, stepping forwards until she had reached the trunk of the heart-tree, the largest tree in the ring of weirwood trees that made up the Kyuubi's cage. She had no blade, but her teeth were sharp and when she cut her palm in this strange place in her mind, she bled. The Kyuubi watched as she knelt and pressed her small hand to the pale trunk, sealing her vow with a magic older and more enduring then the Wall, an oath made in her blood and etched in her bones. "Let the Old Gods hear my oath and make it true," she finished, bowing her head.

Sansa could feel her oath settle over her, could feel it in the thrumming of her heart in her chest, in the breath of her lungs. The Fox must have felt it too, because it started to laugh, vicious and victorious, and Sansa smiled back at it, fierce and fanged like the wolf that she was. "Such an interesting little thing, you are," it said, crouching and lowering its head so its eyes, each larger then her, were almost level with her and gleaming through the tangle of pale branches and red leaves. "This will be more interesting then I thought," it said.

Before she could reply, before she could even bid it a polite farewell, there was a sudden rush of burning something, the same something she felt that warned her of the presence of their watchers. It pushed her back into her body, and the sudden shock of it caused her to fall back from where she was standing, holding the side of the cradle for balance, and she landed on her bottom with a startled oof.

A heartbeat later, she was burning. It felt like fire had replaced her blood, like the air around her was heavier, pressing down on her while malice tightened around her neck like a noose. It took mere moments for their caretaker to kick the door in and the moment she did, the something– the Fox's chakra, she realised– vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. Their caretaker took in Naruto's still form, unconscious and bleeding on the ground, and swore viciously. Sansa felt their caretaker pulsing her something, her chakra, in an odd pattern and in half a minute four people in animal masks had appeared in the room.

It was a terrible repeat of that horror-filled night with Adachi. Naruto was carefully lifted up by an owl-masked woman with glowing green hands, while a young man in a dog-mask, barely grown if Sansa's guess was correct, very tentatively picked Sansa up, holding her like she was a delicate piece of glassware. Or perhaps a cache of wildfire liable to explode into deadly flame at any second. Sansa wasn't surprised when Dog-mask hastily passed her on to a set of arms that were familiar to her, if only because she had so little experience to compare them to.

"Hello again, fierce little thing," Tora murmured, and Sansa wanted to smile, almost. She settled for nipping his hand though when he stroked her face, and Tora chuckled.

She was prepared this time, and she buried her face against Tora's vest when he started to run; he moved so smoothly that she almost thought they weren't moving at all, only when she peeked out from his vest all she saw of the cloudy sky was a blur. It made her stomach turn violently and she was quick to bury her face back into the vest.

She would deny it fiercely if ever asked, but she couldn't deny feeling a certain comfort in how gently she was being cradled in his strong hands, how carefully he held her, like she was something precious to be cared for. All babe's felt secure and comforted when pressed against a parent's chest, Sansa remembered her lady-mother explaining that to her when Rickon was born, and Sansa's new, small form could count on one hand the number of times she had experienced such a thing.

When they finally stopped and she was dared to risk looking up again, she immediately recognised the room they were brought to as the same room they'd taken Naruto to after Adachi slit his throat. Everything was the same; white ceiling, white walls, harsh smells that hurt her nose, even the same the woman, the one the Hokage had called Iyasu-sensei. She was already hovering over Naruto who had been laid out on the cot, his blood seeping into the white sheets, and Sansa whimpered, unable and unwilling to stop the way her small hands automatically reached in Naruto's direction. Naruto didn't even stir and her whimpers grew louder until Tora started rocking her and humming in an oddly soothing motion.

The door to the room opened suddenly and the Hokage, Hiruzen, swept inside. "Inu, report!" he barked out, looking over the room, at the opposite side to where Naruto was.

Sansa followed the direction of his hard stare and her eyes widened slightly. Dog-mask– Inu– had one hand fisted in their caretaker's hair, forcing her into a kneeling position before the lord of the village, and one hand holding a strangely-shaped sharpened blade to her throat. She didn't even flinch, just knelt there, passive and blank.

"Hokage-sama, ANBU Team-177B was patrolling A-sector when Gekko sensed Kyuubi chakra. Approximately six seconds later, ex-ANBU operative code-name Bat flared their chakra in emergency code 72S61. We were on site within thirty seconds, upon which we found Uzumaki Naruto unconscious with what Owl diagnosed as a fractured skull and possible bleed in the brain. Possible fatality is unknown due to the Kyuubi healing factor."

The Hokage's face was a terrible thing to behold, all shadows and hidden knives as he looked coldly down at their caretaker.

"Your negligence almost lost the village a Jinchuriki," he said coldly. "How do you defend yourself?"

"I cannot defend myself, Hokage-sama," the woman said flatly.

It was the first time Sansa had heard her voice. She would have focused more on that if it wasn't for the fury she felt at the Hokage's words. Was that all Naruto, her precious brother, meant to this lord? A Sacrifice? She wanted to scream, to rage, but she tucked her emotions away, buried them deep within her. Now was not the time to be emotional; now was the time to listen, to learn, to wear a mask of innocence and childishness and naivety, not unlike she had long ago, as a prisoner to a mad boy-king. Let them think she was just a stupid little girl, a little bird, a dove, not a wolf hiding her teeth.

The Hokage gave their caretaker one last cold look then nodded at Inu. Sansa blinked and almost missed it, for in the next moment Inu slit her throat and she slumped forwards, lifeless, her lifeblood spilling on the ground.

Sansa wondered if she should feel some form of grief. After all, the caretaker had been her and Naruto's only true form of human interaction for nearly twelve moons, other then Tora's very, very sporadic interactions with them– which, she was beginning to suspect, he wasn't actually supposed to be doing.

She had mourned before for those she rightfully shouldn't have. She had felt grief when Petyr had died. She had hidden it from Arya, of course, but later, in her rooms, she had shed private tears for the man who had taken her from King's Landing, who had taught her so much about playing the great game, who had touched her and kissed her, who had murdered her aunt and sold her to the Boltons, who had betrayed and murdered her father, who she had ordered to be executed, but who she still grieved for.

She had mourned Cersei too, the woman who had been both mother and queen to her during her years in King's Landing. Cersei was cruel in her kindness and vicious in her anger, but she had equipped Sansa with the tools she needed to survive; she had taught Sansa how to be ruthless, taught her how to don a woman's armour, taught her how to survive in a nest of vipers. Joffrey had never beat her in his mother's presence, he hadn't dared, and Cersei had had her moments of softness.

Her love for Myrcella had been gentle, in a way her love for her sons was not. Sansa knew why, of course; the bruises Cersei wore proudly on display when Robert Baratheon still lived were proof that not even a queen, not even a Lannister, was spared the violence of men. Cersei must have ached, thinking of what horrors lay in Myrcella's future. And how terrified she must have been when Tyrion had sold her daughter off to Dorne, to the Martells, the House that hated Lannisters more then any other.

Sansa had even mourned Jaime and Sandor, though not to the extent that she had mourned Petyr and Cersei. Jaime had died as he lived, at Cersei's side. She could not deny him his great love, though she had been furious with him for leaving Brienne behind, heartbroken and with child. Sandor was... complicated. He had been her brave protector back in the Red Keep where the knights were monsters, but she'd also seen the way his eyes tracked her blossoming figure. She'd considered leaving with him the night of the battle, but had ultimately refused, doubting his restraint when they were alone together in the wilderness. She'd never know if she'd made the right choice, but the choices she had made had allowed her to grow to be the Queen she'd been.

So many that had wronged her, so many that she would never forgive, and yet she still mourned. But as she searched inside herself now, looking for any trace of sorrow for the caretaker's fate, all she felt was a hollowness. Her enemies in Westeros had been so human, with human weaknesses and vulnerabilities, but the caretaker was just a blank slate. Emotionless. Sansa couldn't find herself to care for a woman who may just as well have been carved from stone for all the life she showed.

"Clean up that mess," the Hokage ordered one of the masked people, before finally turning to Naruto. "Iyasu-sensei, what is his status?"

"The Kyuubi healed most of the damage, Hokage-sama," Iyasu-sensei dutifully reported and Sansa was glad when Tora moved closer to the cot Naruto was laid out on. "He had a depression fracture on the lateral superior surface of his skull, as a result of the fall. There is some swelling in the brain, but it is already healing without my help. I did not locate any bleeding in his brain, but he will have a concussion. I suggest keeping him sedated for now, though it will be difficult to determine a dosage that the Kyuubi won't burn out of his system."

The Hokage nodded. "Thank you, Iyasu." He said, before turning back to Tora and Inu, a frown on his face. "When Naruto is healed," he said, "it may be time for the twins to be moved to the orphanage."

Sansa didn't miss how both Tora and Inu stiffened. Neither did the Hokage. He sighed heavily.

"It pains me too," he said, "to think of Minato's children growing up as orphans, ignorant to their heritage, but their safety is paramount. They are getting too old to be kept hidden away in a locked room, they will need to interact with other children. In the orphanage they will blend in."

"And no spy would ever think Konoha was heartless enough to abandon their beloved Yondaime's children in an orphanage," Tora snapped.

Sansa wanted to snarl, to howl her anger. Not about the orphanage; at this point, anything would be a step up from the room. No, she was angry that not one of them had mentioned her mother. Kushina, the Princess of the Whirlpools who Sansa had inherited her title from, had fought alongside Minato that night. It was her chains that had held the Fox down, and this was after she had given birth to twins, one of which she'd had to cut out of her own body. Her mother had sacrificed herself for Sansa and Naruto and all they could talk about was Minato's children and the Yondaime's children.

I am an Uzumaki, the wolf inside her soul reared its head to snarl, Naruto and I, we are the last to hold the ruling heart of Uzushio inside us. We have been given our mother's name and we wear it with pride.

"I can take them."

Sansa almost missed it, Inu had spoken so quietly. Then she almost gave herself away, she was so shocked.

"Ka– Inu!" the Hokage corrected himself. "You know why that's impossible," he chided, as if Inu was a misbehaving child. Inu growled, a guttural sound that belonged more to Wolf than Man.

"They're Minato and Kushina's!" He snarled, beginning to pace– or rather, prowl. There was something animalistic in his movements, something feral, and by the careful way that the Hokage and Tora were watching him, they were both quite aware of it. Sansa was focused on something quite different.

Kushina. He was the first one to acknowledge Kushina. And he wanted them.

"Inu–" the Hokage started to say, but Inu interrupted him.

"They're my pack!" he said, and there was a desperate, dangerous edge to his voice that had Sansa's blood begin to race.

"The Council will not allow it, Inu." The Hokage said, an unmistakable tone of finality in his voice.

"You are the Hokage! You rule, not the Council!" Inu snarled. The Hokage straightened, clearly beginning to lose his temper.

"Enough, Kakashi!" He snapped, and Sansa blinked, because where did she know that name?

A memory of silver hair and the expression of drowning flashed before her eyelids, as she placed the name 'Kakashi' in her memories, matching the grief-stricken boy with this warrior, far too young for the weight on his shoulders. This boy who growled and snarled like a wolf, who prowled like a wild thing, who called her and Naruto pack; this boy who knew her mother.

"You can't look after two young children," the Hokage continued, "the village needs you out there, running missions, keeping us looking strong! We are still weak from the Kyuubi attack, the damage and destruction caused was immense, and you are one of our best ninja! You are needed as a show of strength, not a babysitter! I will not hear of this again, do you understand?"

And Sansa had thought she couldn't hate Konoha any more then she already did. 

It seemed she was mistaken.

*Sansa refers to herself as 'Fuyuko Uzumaki' not 'Uzumaki Fuyuko' because she doesn't understand that surnames are spoken first in the Elemental Nations. That's the same reason she refers to the Hokage as a lord. 

Chapter Text

NINE

The orphanage was a very different place to the room. The room had been quiet, stiflingly so, and so empty. The orphanage was the opposite; it overflowed, with children, with noise, with toys, with the roll-out mats and blankets used for bedding. Naruto loved the chaos of it. To Sansa's amusement, in the new, busy environment her brother learned how to run on his toddling little feet before he'd even learned to crawl.

The other babes his (their) age immediately took to Naruto, who was so bright and filled with so much enthusiasm and joy, but Sansa kept to herself. She found the orphanage overwhelming at first; she had grown accustomed to small doses of the something she now knew was called chakra, and the orphanage full of children couldn't compare to the intensity of Tsukiko or the Fox's chakra, but being constantly bombarded with it made her head pound until she felt sick and dizzy.

There was also another issue, one that took her a few days to realise. Most of the unclaimed orphans had no surname– they were blank slates. It was a sign of potential, the orphanage staff insisted, ready for the day when they had a family name to call their own. The cold, harsh reality of it, however, just meant they were unwanted. She and Naruto, however, were not just another two unclaimed orphans. They were Uzumaki, not that anyone knew the weight behind such a name; all they knew was that the twins had a family name and there were those in the orphanage who hated them for it.

It wasn't all the orphans who were like that, of course. The younger ones were too innocent to care about such a thing, and most of the older, more jaded and world weary ones had outgrown their bitterness at each other, instead turning it against the system. This in particular was fortunate for her and Naruto, as the orphanage ran on a system where the older orphans had the job of taking care of the younger orphans, who would one day grow old enough to take on the responsibility of looking after a younger orphan and so on.

A girl, maybe three-and-ten, with grass-green hair and crooked teeth by the name of Kanna was assigned to Sansa and Naruto. She appeared to be a nervous, fumbling girl, but she had clever hands– a thief's hands, Sansa realised, and after she realised that, it didn't take long to notice that Kanna's clumsiness was as much an act as Sansa's own youthfulness. Kanna was gentle with them and she was dutiful in her care, so Sansa kept quiet about the loose panel in the wall, behind which Kanna's ill-begotten goods were hidden. 

Overall, Sansa was cautiously willing to accept the trade of the headaches that would hopefully ease with time and exposure for Naruto's clear happiness in this new environment when she was faced with a new, unexpected problem. It started with a scream, eight days after they'd been moved from the hospital to their new home. Sansa had been curled in the corner of the room, practicing focusing on Naruto's chakra alone– his was so much stronger than any of the other orphans, so it tended to drown the rest out which eased her headaches– when one of the orphanage workers, Jin, suddenly screamed. Sansa's eyes flew open just in time to see her strike Naruto across the face, hard enough to knock him against the floor.

Her brother lay there, stunned, his blue eyes so wide and watery and hurt. Sansa was over by him in a flash, her body crouched over his as he burst into tears. She turned and bared her teeth at the trembling woman, letting her sharp fangs show, and Jin backed away, lifting her hands up to cover her mouth.

The orphanage matron, Kazumi, rushed in and barked out a demand to know what had happened and Jin raised a shaking hand, pointing at Naruto. "Th-the demon," she whispered, trembling, "it– it was speaking in tongues! I heard it! I did!" Her voice was rising, hysterical.

It only took Sansa a moment to realise what Jin meant. She'd spent the last twelve turns of the moon talking to Naruto in the Old Tongue, not the language spoken by Konoha. Naturally, as she was the only person he spoke to, when he started speaking it was in the Old Tongue. To Jin, it probably did sound like Naruto was possessed by a demon. But that didn't excuse her striking Sansa's precious brother. Sansa would not forget or forgive what she had done.

Kanna scooped Naruto up after the matron led the trembling Jin out, leaving Naruto sobbing on the ground, Sansa still crouched protectively over him. Kanna cooed at Naruto, kissing the whisker marks on his tear-stained cheeks until he stopped crying, sniffling instead and reaching with his tiny hands for Sansa.

"Ko!" he whimpered, not quite able to manage 'Fuyuko' yet. "Ko!"

Sansa patted the "older" girl's leg and Kanna knelt down and let Naruto latch onto Sansa, rubbing his cheek against hers. "Pair of lil' puppies, aint'cha?" she murmured, ruffling their hair. Sansa made a face, reaching up with her free hand to pat her hair back down.

Her red hair already reached her shoulders and their caretaker had taken care of all their basic needs, including washing and brushing their hair, so it was in good condition. Well, it had been. She wasn't sure if she would be able to continue to keep it so. The orphanage had very odd contraptions called "showers" to bathe in; they were like inside waterfalls and were cold, which she could cope with– she had survived the Long Night, she knew true cold– but there was no soaps or oils to soak her hair in.

Sansa loved her hair; she couldn't deny it. It was a piece of her that was the same in this life as it had been in her last life. Kissed by fire, Tormund used to say as he ran his fingers through it. She would laugh and kiss him and secretly love the surprising poetry of it. It was probably the most romantic thing Tormund had ever said to her since she "stole" him.

Oh, their dalliances hadn't been for love. Of course they hadn't, not truly. She was a Queen, and no Queen ever really got to choose a man for love. But Tormund was the closest the Free Folk had had to a King, and after she'd granted his people the land in the Gift to settle in, she'd needed a way to tie them to the North, to her crown. So, she "stole" Tormund, she bore him a kissed by fire son with bright blue eyes and a wild, merry grin that was infectious to all who lay eyes upon him. Her beautiful Torrhen had brought joy to Winterfell, and her darling Robb, named for her brother, the first King in the North since the first Torrhen Stark, had brought laughter to the Keep.

Her hair was her connection to her mother– both Catelyn Stark and Kushina Uzumaki– to the brothers she lost, Robb and Rickon, to the son she loved more than life itself, and to Sansa Stark. It was a piece of her, in a time and place where she had already lost so much.

Seeing Sansa's tense reaction to her touch, Kanna softened. "Aw, sorry puppy," she said. "Won't ruffle ya hair, 'kay? Know ya don' like it now."

Sansa smiled gratefully up at Kanna, gently patting the girl's leg in thanks. By the way the girl spoke to her, she was quite certain that Kanna was aware that Sansa understood more then she let on. It was refreshing, if a little unnerving; children did see more clearly than adults did, she mused.

Kanna carried them both outside, keeping them out of the way of the orphanage workers for the rest of the day. It meant skipping dinner, but Naruto was so entranced by the outdoors that it hardly mattered, and Sansa figured that if Kanna was willing to sacrifice a meal to stay out of sight then it was probably best. 

Naruto tumbled about the grass on all fours like one of Lady's litter-mates and Sansa joined in, knocking him over and tussling like a pair of wolf pups. She'd never been allowed to play like this as Sansa Stark. It would have been wildly improper for a noble lady. But rolling around in the grass, playfully growling and nipping as she did her best to pin Naruto to the ground, Sansa felt the happiest she'd been since she'd been reborn in this world.

Kanna coaxed them onto her lap when they finally collapsed together in a heap, exhausted, and the three of them snuggled together under the starry sky. Kanna rested one hand on Naruto's head and curled one around Sansa's midriff and gave a soft sigh. "Ya not demons," she whispered, so quiet Sansa could barely hear her. "Don' listen ta that shit, 'kay? Ya ain't."

Sansa couldn't stop herself from snuggling further into Kanna's soft belly, and she fell asleep to the sensation of Kanna's hand stroking her back.

She didn't fall into a dream though. Instead, she opened her eyes to the sight of the the Fox's godswood– and, of course, to the Fox.

Sansa immediately dipped into a curtsey; after all, courtesy was a lady's armour. "Your grace," she greeted the Fox politely. It glared down at her, its nine glorious tails lashing out angrily from side to side.

"You did not return," it snarled, angry. "Are you already breaking your oath to me, now that your whelp is healed?"

Sansa blinked in surprise. "I apologise, your grace, I did not realise it was possible to reach this place without experiencing that particular... depth of emotion that I felt that night," she told it. "Had I known, I would have returned sooner. We do indeed have much to talk about."

The Fox's tails had stopped moving about quite so angrily, which Sansa took as a sign that it was calming down. "You can return to this mind-scape at any time you choose," it told her, "the first Jinchūriki created this space, with seals and chakra and blood. It is tied to the Uzumaki bloodline. All you must do is close your eyes and reach for me. Not my chakra, me."

Sansa felt her heart beat a little faster, upon hearing that this mind-scape was something she had inherited from her mother. From Kushina, brave, beautiful Kushina, who had sacrificed herself, not for the village, but for Sansa, so that Sansa may live.

"Thank you for enlightening me, your grace." She said softly.

"Why do you call me that?" the Fox asked abruptly. Sansa blinked up at it in surprise.

"It is what we address royalty with, in my first life," she explained. "We did not have the– I believe they are called honorifics? We did not have them, but we had proper addresses for the noble class." Honorifics had certainly been a surprise to learn about during the first few days in the orphanage. Not to mention the social custom of this society to address people and introduce herself by her family name first and given name second. It had been a very confusing few days until Kanna had explained it all to her.

The Fox narrowed its eyes. "You think to win me over with empty flattery?" it hissed, its tails beginning to stir angrily again. "Your honeyed words won't win your any favours, meat sack."

Sansa's eyes flashed with anger. "I did not choose to address you by such a title on a whim," she said coldly, every inch the queen she had been, despite her small form. "I look at you, and I see power, I see strength, and I see pride. I see a caged monarch. That is why I call you 'your grace'."

"Liar!" the Fox snarled, guttural and terrifying. Sansa did not move, despite the primal terror that gripped her in the face of the Fox's rage. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, ignoring how her heart fluttered in her chest like a little bird. She was no little bird; she was a wolf, and she would not bare her throat. 

"We stand before a heart-tree," she reminded the Fox. "We cannot lie."

"We stand in a mind-scape," it corrected her harshly, tails thrashing agitatedly.

"And it is in my mind, yes?" Sansa countered. "And I believe that we cannot lie before a heart-tree, so in this mind-scape we cannot lie before the heart-tree. If you don't believe me, try it. Lie to me." She challenged.

The Fox sneered at her. "I attacked Konoha of my own f–" it stopped. The look on its face was very surprised and Sansa had to work hard to stop her pleasure at being proved correct from showing on her face. "Perhaps there is some reason buried in all your nonsense." The Fox said grudgingly. Sansa smiled sweetly up at it, letting her little fangs show. After a moment, the Fox dipped its head in acknowledgement of her victory, looking darkly amused. "Well played, little vixen," it rumbled.

Sansa wondered if the new moniker was the Fox's version of a reward, or perhaps acknowledgment. 'Vixen' elevated her to a more equal ground to the Fox, after all, and it was a far nicer than 'meat sack' or 'bag of bones'. Regardless, she could be humble in her victory.

"Thank you, your grace," she said prettily. The Fox looked amused, crouching down again so its head was closer to her level. Its tails were swaying lazily above it, magnificent and deadly.

"So, a monarch, you say?" It mused.

"I'm afraid I do not know if you have a preference for being called her or him, or if you do not care for either, your grace," Sansa explained. "Monarch is a neutral alternative."

The Fox made a sound like a snort. "Sexes are for you humans, not for the likes of my kind. Though they have always referred to me as 'he'," here it grinned at her, unmistakably mocking, "your people couldn't fathom a being as powerful as I could be a woman."

Sansa knew it was attempting to get a rise out of her and smiled placidly. She'd dealt with worse men and women trying to break her composure than the Fox. Joffrey on a good day, just to start. "Would you prefer 'it' or 'they' and 'them', then?" she asked.

"The second," the Fox decided, and Sansa nodded.

"Then I shall," she said. "I have another question, your grace, if you don't mind."

"You seem to like asking questions," the Fox observed, neither agreeing or refusing her request.

"A valuable lesson that I learned when I ruled," Sansa admitted, "command and they will obey, ask and they will be willing."

The Fox chuckled, the sound dark and cruel. "You think to make me willing, little Uzumaki?" they asked her mockingly, lips pulled back to bare their teeth, razor-sharp and deadly. "You think to make me your pet? You think–"

"I think to make you free from this cage," Sansa said calmly, interrupting them before they could build themselves up to a rant. "And to do that, we will need to work together. In this body I am but a babe and therefore have little to no access to resources. I barely understand this world I have been reborn in. I will free you, I made an oath and I will fulfil it as I have sworn before the gods to do so, but it will be faster and easier with your help. Will you work with me?"

The Fox tilted their head, almost avian-like, as they looked down at her. When they answered, it wasn't an answer to her question at all, but rather a question of their own. "You do not fear me, do you?"

"I do fear you," Sansa replied honestly. "It is as natural for me to fear you, as it is to fear a fire burning me. But if I keep away to stop myself from being burned by the fire, I stop myself from being warmed by it too."

The Fox was silent for a long moment. "What was your question," they said finally. "The one you wished to ask me."

Sansa looked up at them, where they towered over her, and answered them. "I wished to ask your name." She said.

The Fox lunged forward, abruptly furious and terrifying in their rage, until they were pressed up against the branches of the weirwood trees. "You wish to know the name of a monster? You wish to make conversation with me, to pretend that we are friends?" they roared. "You wish to pretend that I am not the demon that destroyed your village?" They snarled.

"Why did you attack Konoha?" Sansa asked. 

And more importantly, how can I convince you to do it again?

"Do you really wish to know, little vixen?" The Fox asked her, a vicious smile on their face, those terrible, blood-dripping teeth on display. "Remember, I can only tell the truth here, even if it's a truth you don't want to hear."

"I always want to hear the truth," Sansa replied. "Tell me."

And so the Fox told her. They told her of a madman, Uchiha Madara, who used his Sharingan eyes– a bloodline ability, the Fox explained– to make them attack Konoha in the village's early years. They told her of Uzumaki Mito, her mother's aunt, whose slender hands were splattered with blood and ink when she used her chakra and calligraphy brushes to rewrite the very fabric of the world to her will so as to seal an ancient and angry living construct of chakra within her.

"It was only later they called us demons," the Fox said bitterly, "as if we were oni, stealing their children, raping their women and feasting on banquets of human flesh and blood."

"Those who remain write the history books," Sansa murmured, and the Fox made a bitter sound of agreement, before continuing.

Sansa listened as they described how Mito's husband, the Shodaime of Konoha, hunted down the rest of their siblings. How all eight were sealed and handed out to the other villages, in an effort to balance the power. How it had failed, and instead the Jinchūriki were nothing but instruments of war. Weapons of mass destruction. How their siblings had died over and over within their human hosts, only to reform and be captured again.

The Fox spoke of how Mito grew old and how Kushina was chosen and uprooted from her life in Uzushio and forcibly relocated to Konoha, as the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki could not possibly be anywhere but Konoha. How Konoha had rushed the transfer despite knowing it would mean Mito's death, because Mito was old, and so aside from the sealing knowledge which she mostly kept from them as they were Uzushio secrets, Mito had been useless to them, but Kushina was young and could be trained to be a powerful kunoichi; she was a useful tool that they could make even more useful to them. A weapon for their wars. And so Mito had died for Konoha's lust for power.

And finally, the Fox spoke of that night. The night that Sansa had been reborn in this world. Minato's relationship with Kushina had been very hushed, hidden from the populace of Konoha– there was a stigma attached to Jinchūriki, after all, and Minato was the Hokage. Politically, he was too new to office to be married to a woman who was not only officially a foreign kunoichi despite the fact she'd technically lived in Konoha since she was a child, but was a Jinchūriki too. Despite his war hero status, Minato was already a clanless orphan and young, he couldn't afford to alienate the village in any way and as a result only his personal ANBU guard, the Sandaime and his wife, the Council of Elders, Minato's sensei and his only remaining student knew about their relationship.

When Kushina became pregnant, the Sandaime's wife offered to act as midwife. They all knew the seal keeping the Fox contained could weaken during labour, and planned to have her give birth in an isolated place, just in case. They hadn't truly been expecting anything to go wrong, though. Not really. Which was why they hadn't been prepared for when the masked Uchiha appeared, tearing through the guards with ease and taking control of the Fox.

The Fox told her of having their control once again stripped from them, then of a single moment of sudden clarity before the agony of being torn in half. They told her of being trapped by chakra chains and of their sheer desperation not to be sealed again, not to be trapped in that prison, that they'd rather be dead, how they wished they could be killed because it had to be a kinder fate. They spoke of a last, desperate attempt to avoid being sealed by killing the two babes, but failing and killing Kushina instead.

When the Fox stopped speaking, tears were streaming down Sansa's face. They weren't pretty tears either; they were true tears, the ugly kind that made her hiccup and her face turn blotchy and her nose run. "I'm so sorry," she wept, placing her hands over her eyes, unable to even look at the Fox. "I'm so sorry."

"What." They said. It wasn't even a question.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated again. "I will free you, I swear. I will free you, and we'll leave Konoha. We'll leave it and we'll be free. I swear it to you. I do. We'll never set foot in this hateful place again and we'll find your siblings and free them too."

The Fox sighed. It was a quiet, resigned thing.

"That's a nice dream, little vixen," they said, almost gently, and Sansa pulled her hands away from her face to glare at him.

"I don't believe in dreams," she said fiercely, "not anymore. I believe in making plans and then turning those plans into reality. I once crafted a two-decades long plan to steal Six Kingdoms– seven if you include becoming Queen-Beyond-The-Wall, even though the Wall technically didn't exist at that point– and I succeeded." Here, she planted her tiny arms on her hips and ignored what an odd and comical picture they must make as she glared up at the Fox. "I am Sansa Stark, I am Uzumaki Fuyuko, and I will free your siblings. It may take me decades, but I will free them."

The Fox stared at her for a long, long time, unblinking.

"Kurama." They said, finally.

It took Sansa a moment, but when she understood she gave a brilliant smile. "I am honoured to meet you, Kurama." She said, with a deep curtsey.

"You know," Kurama said, in a surprised voice, "I think I might actually believe you."

Chapter Text

TEN

Now that Naruto had other friends to keep him entertained and Kanna to keep an eye out for him, Sansa steeled herself to finally do something she'd been putting off since her first disastrous attempt; warg into an animal in Konoha. Pretending to be napping in the corner of the playroom, she fluttered from mind to mind of a sparrow, a stray cat, another stray cat, and a hawk, until she found a pigeon. After fluffing her feathers, she quickly took to the sky with a few quick flaps of her wings. This time she was careful to keep to the skies, staying away from the buildings and instead focusing on orienting herself in the village.

Sansa was used to having to memorise the layouts of large keeps, castles and towns, and Konoha wasn't the largest village she'd had to memorise. She'd once spent six moons at Casterly Rock after Galladon Lannister, Brienne's son, had inherited it and invited her to visit. Casterly Rock and its surrounding lands dwarfed Konoha; though, to be fair, Casterly Rock dwarfed most castles and keeps.

It was clear to her that the streets of Konoha were built to be purposefully misleading and confusing. To an invader or non-native of the village it would be difficult to navigate. This was a common enough strategical decision that Sansa could recognise the basic pattern to it. Enough that she believed she wouldn't get horribly lost. After an hour or two of flying, Sansa finally veered over to the one structure of the village she had been avoiding: the mountain with the carved faces.

Looping slow circles in the air, Sansa gazed down upon the serious face of the Yondaime Hokage. Her father. The man who had torn Kurama in half, who had sealed one half in Naruto, his son, and one half in her, his daughter. Sansa wasn't sure what it was she felt, as she gazed upon his visage. Was it grief? Anger? Frustration? Disappointment? She wasn't sure. She just knew that it wasn't love. And it wasn't forgiveness. Her father had sacrificed her, and even more unforgivably he had sacrificed Naruto too, to what he believed to be a demon, trapped beneath their skin. He had sentenced them to a life of hate, for a village more precious to him then his own family.

Love is the death of duty, Jon had told her once. But duty had been the death of Minato's love.

It wasn't that Sansa didn't understand. She did understand. She was a Queen. She had ruled for decades longer then any woman had ruled before. She had begun a dynasty. She had birthed legends. She understood sacrifice. But she had never sacrificed her family. Everything she had ever done, everything she had ever sacrificed, she had done for the sake of her children. She had shaped the world into one where they would never have to suffer how she had suffered. Love no one but your children, Cersei had told her. It was one of her many lessons, one that Sansa carried with her until her death.

Tiring, Sansa fluttered over to the carved face of the Shodaime Hokage, landing on the brow of the man Kurama had called Senju Hashirama. The man who had been married to her great-aunt, Uzumaki Mito. The man who had captured Kurama's siblings and sentenced them to an endless existence of suffering with no thought or care for their sentience.

She did not hate Minato for what he had done, for though she could not forgive him, she did understand him. But Senju Hashirama? Him, she could– and did– hate. Not just for sealing Kurama's siblings, but for founding Konoha in the first place.

From her perch on the Shodaime's head, Sansa looked over the village she hated one last time before leaving the pigeon and returning to Naruto.

~

Time passed quicker now. There was always something to do, whether it was playing with Naruto and the other children or Lady and her litter-mates, exploring Konoha in various animal forms until she knew the village as well as she'd known Winter Town, doing small chores around the orphanage, or helping Kanna hide Naruto away from those who meant him harm. Sadly, this was a longer list of people then Sansa would have liked. Sansa had hoped the altercation with Jin would be an isolated incident. It wasn't. And, as she would come to learn, it wasn't just Naruto who would be targeted.

About two weeks after the incident with Jin, Sansa woke up unable to breathe. She immediately panicked, thrashing about like a wild thing, but her tiny body wasn't able to do anything when faced with the much older girl kneeling over her, pressing a pillow down over her face– not that she'd been aware of those details at the time. All she'd known was that she couldn't breathe and she'd been gripped with the terrible, frantic, primal fear of any dying creature as she slowly suffocated.

And then, suddenly, her attacker was ripped off her and thrown across the room with enough force that she hit the opposite wall and crumpled against the floor. Sansa gasped for air, her heart thundering as her small chest heaved desperately. Around her the other orphans were starting to stir, finally noticing that something noteworthy had occurred while they'd been sleeping. Sansa didn't notice them; she only had eyes for her saviour. Crouched before her, black-clad and mask bone-white, was Inu. Shaky and frightened and feeling so terribly vulnerable, Sansa felt tears well up in her eyes. It was a natural reaction to what had been a terrifying experience and she couldn't stop herself from reaching up, in the universal signal for 'please pick me up'. "Inu," she whimpered when he didn't move, which caused him to flinch slightly and she reached for him again, insistently. She just wanted to feel safe, to feel comforted, just for one moment.

"Captain," murmured another one of the masked guards, "here, let me–" the woman wearing a doe mask knelt down and tried to reach for Sansa, only for Inu to snarl, guttural and deadly. The woman flinched, going prey-still and silent.

"Don't touch her," Inu warned, the snarl still in his voice. Sansa bared her sharp teeth at the woman, not wanting the stranger near her and certainly not touching her or holding her, not when she was barely holding herself together, not when her heart was a fluttering, frightened little bird trying to escape her chest, trapped only by the pale-bone cage of her ribs. She edged closer to Inu until she could grab onto his closest hand with both of her small ones, ignoring the woman's bitten off hiss of warning and Inu's automatic tensing.

Inu was wearing a strange leather glove that didn't have fingers but did have metal indents along the knuckles. It smelled like blood, old and fresh, but he didn't pull his hand away, so Sansa held tight. The closest she could get to feeling secure, Sansa turned her gaze to the room, searching for a familiar golden head. She found Naruto looking anxiously over at her from Kanna's arms and gave the green-haired girl a thankful look. Kanna just nodded, looking wide-eyed and shaken up.

And then the girl, the one who had tried to smother Sansa, stirred from where she'd been left in a crumpled heap, sitting up with a groan and rubbing at her head. Sansa felt Inu stiffen as she spotted Sansa and her face turned livid with hate, hands balling into fists at her sides as her mouth twisted. "Why can't you just die!?" She screamed, staggering to her feet. "You freak, why won't you just fucking die! I tried all the poisons they gave me, but nothing worked! You're not even human, you're both monsters! You killed my parents! You're dem–"

Inu moved too quickly for Sansa's eyes to even follow. One moment he was standing beside her, as she clung to his hand, watching wide-eyed as the girl screamed her hatred, the next moment he was beside the girl, holding her limp body. She was still alive, Sansa could see the rise and fall of her chest, but she was unconscious. "Suru, take her to T&I," Inu ordered, and there was a truly chilling edge to his voice as he looked down with cold eyes at the unconscious girl. "I'm curious to know just who it is that's been supplying her with poison."

"At once, captain," the woman from earlier, the one in the doe mask, said, flitting forward to take the unconscious girl from Inu and then disappearing.

Naruto was whimpering from Kanna's arms and Sansa's heart was breaking for him. He didn't deserve to hear such hateful things being spat at him. Traitor's daughter, she still remembered hearing, over and over. She's a traitor's daughter. It had followed her everywhere in the Red Keep, even in her dreams, a constant battering at her heart that left it bruised and bleeding. And she knew it wouldn't be the last time someone called her and Naruto monsters or demons.

This was the life their father had condemned them to. This was the fate he had sacrificed them for.

Sansa didn't even realise she'd let out a soft whine, more reminiscent of the sounds she let out when she was sharing Lady's body, until Inu had crouched down and lifted her ever-so-carefully into his arms. He was clearly not used to holding small children, she could tell by the awkwardness in his movements, but he still held her securely and she could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He smelled like blood and leather and wet fur.

"Go to sleep, pup," Inu whispered and Sansa sighed, rubbing her cheek against the cheek of the dog-mask just like she would with Tsukiko or Naruto before curling up against his vest and closing her eyes, letting herself relax, confident in the knowledge that Inu was here and Inu could keep her and Naruto safe. At least for tonight.

When Sansa woke in the morning, she was curled up with Naruto in a small room she hadn't seen before with Kanna's arms wrapped around them both. When Kanna woke– which was about the same time as Naruto woke; her brother was many things, but quiet wasn't one of them– she explained that the matron had decided that the three of them would share their own room at night. The room was locked and only Kanna and the matron had a key.

"'Course, that won' stop someone from pickin' the lock," Kanna told them, "so we gotta stick sommat in there before we go ta sleep, 'kay? We can't forget. Lock picks can't git in if there ain't no room for 'em," she explained. Sansa nodded solemnly, while inwardly despairing. She was really going to have to reveal her ability to talk soon, or otherwise Naruto's main exposure to the language was going to be Kanna's street slang. A son of Uzushio should not speak in street slang.

Masa's, as Sansa later learned the girl's name was, attempt on their lives was the first but it wasn't the last. It seemed that Masa wasn't the only child in the orphanage who had been orphaned by the Kyuubi Attack– which should rightfully be called the Uchiha Attack, in her opinion– and because Minato had sealed Kurama in her and Naruto, those orphans somehow equated them being the Sacrifices to being responsible for their parents' deaths. And some of them? They wanted revenge– the bloody kind.

A week after Masa's attempts, a nine-year-old boy who was enrolled in the ninja academy had smuggled home one of the funny-shaped knives they used to practice hitting targets and tried to stab Naruto. Kanna had managed to deflect the strike and the masked watchers– ANBU, Kanna later informed her they were called– appeared and took the boy, Genku, away.

Sansa didn't see Genku around again.

Two-and-ten year old Ochiyo was next to try; she hit Sansa over the head with a ceramic pot. It had shattered to pieces and the result had been painful and bloody. Sansa spent two days in the white place Naruto had been taken to twice while Kurama tried to slow down her accelerated healing long enough for the maesters to pick the pieces of ceramic out of her wounds before her skin grew over them and they had to cut her back open (later Kanna explained that the white place was called a hospital and the maesters were actually called iryo-nin– Kanna was a blessing and nothing anyone said could convince Sansa otherwise)

Ochiyo disappeared too.

So did Isamu and Chiyuri and Riku after they tried their luck.

Sansa was torn between feeling uneasy about the fates of the orphaned children and enraged about their attempts on her and her precious brother's lives. She and Kanna were getting tense and Naruto was picking up on their unease which made him whiney and bad-tempered. Inu and the other ANBU stayed closer now too Sansa noticed as she carefully tracked their chakra, along with the chakra of everybody else within her vicinity. She didn't care about the headaches anymore, not when it gave her advanced warning of possible attempts on her or her brother's lives.

The next attack was on Naruto. Sansa felt the flicker of intent in one of the chakras she was tracking moments before it happened which gave her time to tackle Naruto, just like she did when they were playing 'wolves'. Naruto giggled, giving a playful little growl as he squirmed beneath her, the sound just slightly too animalistic to be fully human. The little claws she'd noticed he grew sometimes weren't quite human either, but she never made a big deal out of them and neither did Kanna when she noticed them.

The boy who'd lunged at Naruto was, unfortunately, better trained then those who'd previously made attempts on their lives. About five-and-ten with short green hair, he had one of those funny knives in his hand and even as Kanna screamed out, "Kenta, no!" he lashed out with his foot, catching Sansa in the chest with his foot. Her chest exploded with pain as she was thrown back with a meaty crunch. She could hear Kanna scream again as she landed and she couldn't even move, she was in so much pain. She couldn't even breathe; it felt like her ribs were grinding together and she could taste blood. Blood and desperation.

'You'll owe me for this, little vixen,' a dark, familiar voice rumbled at the back of her head, and she swallowed back a scream as it felt like someone had carved her open and poured wildfire into her bones. The pain in her chest vanished, the shattered bones knitting back together, and when she heard Kanna scream, "don't hurt him!" she easily flowed to her feet, took in the sight of Kanna shielding Naruto with her own body and Kenta standing over them, and roared, corrosive, burning chakra flowing out around her like a cloak of fiery crimson.

Before anyone in the yard could react, Kenta made a sudden choking sound and looked down. A long, scarlet-wet and dripping blade emerged through his chest and for a few, stunned moments all anyone could do was stare. Then the blade was pulled back with a wet, slick sound and Kenta's body tumbled to the ground, revealing Inu standing behind him. Kanna screamed again, crawling forwards and sobbing wretchedly, bending over Kenta's head. Their hair, some part of Sansa vaguely noticed as she hurried over to Naruto's side and frantically grabbed her brother who clung to her just as desperately as she clung to him, was identical in colour.

Holding his bloodied sword and surveying the frozen children in the yard with a blank, impassive stare, Inu started prowling forwards, his gait every bit as predatory as he was. Not one of the children moved under the weight of his presence as he made his way over to Sansa and Naruto, stopping in front of them and Sansa let the crimson shroud sink back under her skin as the familiar feel of Inu's chakra washed over her. "The next one who tries to hurt Uzumaki Naruto or Fuyuko," Inu said, and there was no mistaking the deadly threat in his low voice, "I'll kill slower. Understood?" The pressure in the yard increased until some of the children fell over and others released their bladders, the smell of urine pungent to Sansa's nose.

Abruptly, the pressure disappeared and so did Inu.

One of the older children ran inside to get the matron and Sansa and Naruto were locked in the bedroom they shared with Kanna while everything was "sorted", whatever that meant. Sansa hugged the sobbing Naruto, who didn't understand what was happening but hated being locked in small rooms and wanted to be outside and sang him 'Snow Beast', his favourite of the old Northern lullabies, until he dozed off into a fitful sleep in her tiny arms.

'Snow Beast' had been Raya's favourite lullaby too. Raya, her third and final child. Her only daughter.

All her life, Sansa Stark had known that as a Lord Paramount's daughter, her womb was the most valuable part of her. More valuable than her beauty, more valuable than her riches, it was the best weapon and bargaining tool she had. And yet, all her life, she had also known that her womb would never truly belong to her, as no woman's womb ever did. It belonged to men; to fathers or brothers, who may sell her off, and to future husbands, who would use a woman's womb to create heirs to his titles and lands.

Even when she was queen, her womb was not truly hers. Her womb was a tool to be used to forge alliances and claims and debts. Torrhen and Robb had given the Starks a claim to the Six Kingdoms and the Free Folk. Raya had given them Dorne; after all, in Dorne women could inherit.

With the Martells destroyed by the wars and infighting, the prince they managed to find lest Daenerys turn her eyes further South and decide to be the first Targaryen to truly conquer Dorne was a green-boy, one easily taken in by beauty and warm smiles and sweet promises. Sansa did intend to fulfil her promises and she had; opening trade between the North and Dorne may have seemed a foolish, costly endeavour, but it had paid off, as she knew it would– Dorne and the North were startlingly similar in their ways, for the distance that separated them.

Sansa had wedded the prince, who became Prince Consort Olyvar, with the understanding between them and everybody else that she would keep her name and he would never have any say over how she ruled the North, nor she over how he ruled Dorne. He agreed, of course he did the poor boy, and she made sure she was with child before returning North, while he stayed to rule Dorne with the additional understanding between them that paramours were acceptable so long as they were discrete. She didn't want Olyvar doing something foolish out of unsated lust, as men were wont to do, and she had grown fonder of Tormund then she had expected to.

Raya Martell, her darling Raya, was born with her father's copper-toned skin and thick, ebony hair, Dornish to the bone except for her deep blue eyes and the wolfsblood in her veins. She was beautiful, especially dressed in the sapphire blue Dornish silks she wore when she was crowned Princess of Dorne with a pretty smile that hid her sharp mind. After all, Sansa and Olyvar had agreed that Sansa would never have any say over how Olyvar ruled, but they never had any such agreement over Sansa's influence on their child's reign.

Raya may have spent half her childhood in Dorne, so as to learn their customs and become ingratiated within the court of her future subjects, but she had learned the game of thrones at her mother's knee alongside her brothers, and she knew just what it took to survive as a woman in a world such as theirs. Just as her Torrhen and Robb did, she knew her duties and she took them on proudly. Family, Duty, Honour.

It was no mistake that family came first, and honour came last. There was no place for honour when it came to family. Family was everything. That was why she couldn't bring herself to feel any true regret that Inu had killed Kento, even if he was Kanna's brother or cousin. Yes, she wished it had been someone Kanna didn't love, but something had needed to be done. An example had to be set, or the attacks would have continued. All rulers understood this. There had been times where Sansa had made similar decisions, as Queen of the North, and while she may have wished such decision were unnecessary, she never regretted making them.

Kanna didn't come back to the room for hours. Sansa had honestly half expected her to not return at all. She wasn't sure if she would have been able to– not unless she was forced. But to her surprise, Kanna did.

The green-haired girl looked tired and wan as she locked the door behind her after entering the room then turned to face them. Sansa tensed and tried to move in front of Naruto as her stirred, noticed Kanna and then reached his arms up to her. "Ka!" he said, his words lisping slightly. "Ka, up!"

Kanna's face crumpled and she dropped to her knees, pulling them both into her arms. Naruto went easily, but Sansa tensed, ready for violence. Kanna didn't seem to notice, instead burying her face in Naruto's mop of golden hair. "Ya ain't demons," she whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy like she'd been crying for hours. Sansa would know. "Ya ain't." She gave a quiet, wet laugh. "Yer puppies, not demons."

Finally relaxing, Sansa let the tension ease from her muscles and she leaned into Kanna's arms. "Not puppies," she said softly, and Kanna jolted, sucking in a shocked breath at hearing her speak, but one show of trust, of faith, deserved another. "Not puppies– wolves."

Kanna pulled back slightly, so she could look at them both. Sansa smiled, revealing her sharp little fangs, while Naruto reached up impatiently to pat her arm, wanting more hugs and unintentionally showing his little claws in the process. "Not puppies," Kanna agreed, obliging Naruto and pulling them back into a hug. "And not foxes," she added, softer then a whisper, so soft that Sansa was sure they were not supposed to hear. "Wolves."

Chapter Text

ELEVEN

"Don't be unreasonable, Hiruzen," Danzo said. "Her use of the Kyuubi's chakra at such a young age is unprecedented. Not taking advantage of such talent would be nothing short of wasteful."

Hiruzen sighed, wanting nothing more than to rub at his aching temples. This entire day had been a mess. First he'd had to deal with the matron of Konoha's orphanage screaming at him because Kakashi had murdered one of her charges and threatened another two dozen of them and now he'd spent the last hour arguing with Danzo about the fact little Fuyuko had clearly used the Kyuubi's chakra in front of too many witnesses for him to hush it up and his old friend was frothing at the mouth to have her enlisted into his shadow ANBU– or at least have her start training.

"Enough," he interrupted before Danzo could continue, sick to death of the entire conversation. "I will not change my mind on this– and don't think you can make her disappear," he warned. "I will not overlook her disappearance, Danzo, and you will not like my response."

Danzo's mouth thinned in displeasure. "You're making a mistake." He said. "You're letting sentiment get in the way of making this village strong."

Hiruzen smiled grimly. "In this past month I've had six children killed for their attempts to murder Naruto and Fuyuko," he said. "My sentiment for our village's youth does not stop me from doing what has to be done. But I know better than to try and force children who are too young into training."

"Very well," Danzo conceded, dipping his head. "But you can't coddle them forever, Hiruzen. They're not children, they're weapons."

"They're both," Hiruzen corrected him. "Which is why they require very careful handling."

The corner of Danzo's mouth ticked up in a slight smile. "As you say, Hokage-sama," he said, and Hiruzen smiled, knowing that Danzo had finally backed down, agreeing with him for now.

"If you are still looking for a project, however," he said, "Kakashi is becoming somewhat of an... inconvenience."

"Are you worried your rabid dog might try to bite the hand holding his leash?" Danzo asked, coolly amused. "Very well, I'll take him off your hands, old friend."

Hiruzen smiled. "Thank you, old friend."

~

Sansa remembered Kurama's words before they had healed her and provided her with their chakra to help her defend Naruto before Inu's timely intervention, so after Kanna and Naruto had both fallen into a fitful sleep she closed her eyes and reached the way Kurama had instructed. It wasn't at all like warging, where she floated away from her body. Instead, it was as if she was falling backward deeper into her own mind, falling and falling until she found herself in the godswood.

"You're here," Kurama rumbled, "good."

"I wished to thank you," Sansa told him, with a deep curtsey, "I owe a debt, Kurama."

Kurama tilted their head. "Careful, little vixen," they warned. "Promises and Debts are serious things, especially to Beings such as I."

"Nevertheless, it is a debt that I owe you." Sansa said firmly and Kurama dipped their head in an acknowledgement that shivered along Sansa's bones, sinking deep into the marrow. She pushed aside her unease to focus on the more pressing issue. "So," she said, "let us work out what the obstacles to freeing you from this prison are. To start, I have no knowledge of sealing. I also have no knowledge of the written language of the Elemental Nations and I have no access to a seal master to apprentice under."

"That is a... very discouraging start ," Kurama said, and she could hear their agitation.

"Yet they are not insurmountable obstacles," Sansa replied calmly. "Time and patience will be our greatest allies in this endeavour."

Kurama snarled, leaping to their feet where they towered over her as they angrily paced from one side of their weirwood cage to the other. It made Sansa's heart ache to see them trapped, and it made her angry to know that it was her who was their jailor, however unwilling she might be.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "It isn't fair. But I am committed to this and I will see it through."

Kurama stopped pacing, instead turning back to look at her. They crouched down again and looked at her. "Yes," They said. "You are. And you will." They sighed, a hot gust of Dornish summer wind. "We'll start with the basics then." They lifted a massive claw and gestured to the heart tree, to where the face should be, but the inked seal was instead. "That," They said, "is the seal trapping me inside you."

Sansa frowned as she looked at it. Like last time, looking at the lines and swirls of ink was irritating, like looking at a piece of embroidery with a thread loose, or a laced up a corset that had missed an eyelet.

"You said last time that no true Uzumaki would have created it. You called it 'clumsy'. What did you mean by that?" She asked and Kurama snorted.

"I meant exactly that," They said scornfully. "It's a display brute force where a delicate touch was required. No finesse at all. Mito or Kushina would never have crafted such an insult. Oh, I'm sure the Yondaime was a very impressive killer and talented enough at the flashy battlefield seals, but this type of work requires precision."

"That's excellent, then," Sansa said, remembering the countless hours she'd spent slaving over her embroidery and her letters, until her fingertips bled and calloused and the muscles in her hands ached and cramped, "delicate, precise work is where I excel."

"Of course it is," Kurama said. "You're an Uzumaki. It's in your blood."

Sansa smiled up at him. "Maybe," she agreed. "But I put in the work too. Though not with these hands," she held up her tiny, thin little hands and frowned, flexing them to test their dexterity. "I must work on that."

"Yes," Kurama said, and Sansa wouldn't exactly call herself an expert at reading the facial expressions of a giant fox, but she thought that they looked curious. "You have mentioned before that you are a reborn soul. You must be loved by the gods."

Sansa bowed her head, thinking on Cersei's words as she had once prayed– The gods have no mercy. That's why they're gods. "It is a terrible burden, to be loved by the gods," she said quietly, and Kurama dipped their head.

"One of the many you must carry," They said, but she heard the sympathy there. "Tell me of your life, Sansa Stark who is also Uzumaki Fuyuko."

Sansa smiled sadly. "It is a long story, Kurama."

"I have nothing but time," Kurama said, gesturing around their cage with their tails, "but I understand if you don't wish to speak of it yet. Revisiting such memories can be... painful."

"Yes," Sansa murmured. "It is. But... I would like to tell you. One day."

"I will wait," Kurama promised.

~

The days following Kento's execution were tense. Sansa and Naruto kept close to a pale, quiet Kanna who mostly kept the three of them locked in their small room, even if it meant missing meals. Naruto cried a lot, hungry and unhappy as he always was to be locked in small spaces, but between Kanna and Sansa they tried to keep him occupied.

It took two weeks before life started to return to normal, only without the attempted murder. Most of the children seemed too scared to even breathe in their direction, which Sansa preferred to been terrified of a knife in her back, but Naruto teared up every time one of his old friends ran away from him. Only the very youngest of them were unaffected by Inu's threat due to their young age impacting their ability to actually realise that a threat had been made. It still took Sansa an entire moon's turn before she was satisfied that no one was going to try and hurt her brother and she finally relaxed her careful vigilance and turned her focus onto her other task– learning sealing.

The first step was to begin learning the written language of the Elemental Language. This was difficult as there were multiple written languages, Kanna only had so much time to teach her and most of the other kids at the orphanage were still avoiding her. Sansa found herself constantly frustrated when nobody would help her learn to decipher the brush strokes on paper and the more time that passed without any progress, the more frustrated she felt.

Visiting Lady and her family helped, at least. Tumbling around with the other wolf pups, training to track prey by scent with Tsukiko, curling up in the den in a puppy pile, all while entwined so tightly with Lady that their hearts beat as one... it let Sansa escape the frustration of being unable to help free Kurama and fulfil her oath to him.

"I just don't know what to do," she/Lady admitted to Tsukiko, as Lady/Kita had finally started being able to speak. Tsukiko had refused to let Sansa introduce herself, however, claiming that the 'time was not yet right'. "I know what it's like to live in a cage. Mine were gilded cages, but they still clipped my wings so I couldn't fly and I hated it. At times I just wanted to die, rather than live another day trapped. But I can't do anything."

"Oh my little ones," Tsukiko said, leaning down to nuzzle her/them. "I do not doubt for one moment that you will succeed in whatever it is that you put your mind to. It is clear to any who lay eyes on you that you are meant for great things, little Dream Walker."

"But what if I fail?" Sansa/Lady asked desperately.

"But," Tsukiko countered, "what if you succeed?"

Tsukiko's faith in her helped, but as her and Naruto's second name-day approached, Sansa found she was no closer to finding a solution to her kanji problem. She also found she had another problem– Inu was missing.

It wasn't that she'd ever seen Inu with any degree of regularity, but since they'd been moved to the orphanage his chakra had nearly always hovered in the background, along with the rest of their protectors. Except since shortly after the day he'd executed Kento, Sansa hadn't felt his chakra once. She was finding it more upsetting then she'd expected, considering how little they'd actually interacted. 

Tsukiko was the one to notice, during one of her visits to the wolves. The she-wolf was lounging under the velvety night sky, the glow of the full moon turning her pale coat silver and Sansa/Lady were curled up between her two front paws, enjoying the protection they felt there, when the she-wolf spoke. “You seem sad, little ones,” she murmured, and Sansa/Lady flopped onto her side, looking up at the much larger wolf.

sansa/sad/lost pack?/hurts

It does hurt, Lady

“I am sad,” Sansa admitted.

“Why are you sad, my little dream walker?” Tsukiko asked.

“I think something happened to one of the ANBU I might have... cared about a little,” Sansa said reluctantly. “I haven’t felt his chakra for a while. I didn’t even realise how often he was around until suddenly he wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry, little one,” Tsukiko said softly, nosing her gently. “Shinobi lead short, difficult, and often violent lives. Having them as pack is… painful.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Sansa said softly, and Tsukiko made a soft chuffing sound.

“You really have no idea what I am, do you?” she mused. “I am what is known to shinobi as a summons, little one, though we have our own names for ourselves, and this is not the human realm, this is what shinobi call the summons realm. Shinobi sign blood contracts with us so they may call upon our aid in battle to vanquish their enemies. While some summons and their shinobi have a distant relationship that relies on tributes offered in return for aid, others may grow close and form tight bonds. And wolves? We are pack animals.”

“When the snow falls and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives,” Sansa murmured and Tsukiko nuzzled her.

“Exactly. Pack sticks together. When we make a pact with a summoner, they become part of our pack. And losing one of the pack…”

“It hurts,” Sansa whispered, making a soft keening sound.

Gin, Haya, Katsu and Suki all scampered over from where they’d been playing, all whining anxiously and piling on top of her, licking at her muzzle and her ears, nosing and nuzzling her. Sansa closed her eyes and let herself be surrounded by warmth and love and pack, let it drown out the ache in her heart.

Almost as if she could read her thoughts, Tsukiko murmured, “we can never forget those who we have lost, they will always be a part of us and we will carry them within us for the remainder of our years. But we will forge new bonds as the years pass and those new bonds will help ease the burden of the old pain. It is not a betrayal to those we have lost to love again. We are not replacing them and they would want us to live and love, even when they have passed on.”

~

The night before their name-day, Sansa and Naruto were curled up in Kanna's arms on their shared mat, their usual sleeping position, when the supposedly locked door suddenly swung opened. Sansa, half-asleep, didn't even have time to be alarmed before she was snatched from Kanna's arms, Naruto's frightened yelp letting her know that he'd experienced a similar fate.

Panicked, Sansa immediately sank her teeth into the offending appendage, causing its owner to hiss as her sharp fangs sank deep into their arm. She gagged and spluttered as blood filled her mouth and had to let go to spit it up as she started to choke. Kanna, meanwhile, had leapt to her feet and started screaming and shouting until finally a third man ran into the room, and this one Sansa recognised– not by his face, she couldn't see his face, but by the feel of his chakra. It was Tora.

"What the fu– what the heck?" Tora demanded furiously. "What did you two idiots do?"

"Taicho!" The man in the frog mask holding Naruto, whose neck Sansa was pleased to see had been clawed bloody with wounds that would need sewing shut from Naruto's little claws, hastened to answer Tora. "The mission parameters stated a retrieval mission of two assets!"

"We're picking them up for transport, we're not kidnapping them!" Tora exclaimed, exasperated. Impatient and feeling sick from the blood in her mouth and dripping down her chin, Sansa whined and reached out for Tora. The man holding her gladly passed her over when Tora automatically held out his arms to accept her. "Still a terrifyingly protective little creature, I see," he said fondly. Sansa gave him a mournful look as she wiped her hand over her face.

"Tastes yucky," she said, careful to keep her words at a low enough level of maturity.

"I imagine it does," Tora said, shooting another glare over at the man in the hare mask who had grabbed her. Sansa looked coldly back at him as well, holding herself as regally as an almost two-year-old with their mouth and chin splattered in blood could. Sansa wasn't sure if her lady-mother would be more proud or horrified. Kanna was also glaring fiercely at both men, the sniffling Naruto back in her arms as she bounced him softly, trying to soothe him.

"What d'ya need th' pups for, anyways?" she demanded.

"That's none of your business," hare-mask said hotly, one hand clamped over his bleeding arm.

"We're taking them somewhere secure for tomorrow," Tora answered her, ignoring hare-mask. "I'm sure you remember how last year things at the Kyuubi Festival got... out of hand." By the way Kanna winced, Sansa had the feeling that Tora was understating things. "We don't want a repeat of that where the twins are out somewhere exposed and vulnerable," he explained.

Kanna nodded. "Makes sense," she agreed, "yer takin' me with ya."

"Who do you think you are?" demanded frog-mask.

"Not th' one who got beat up by a fuckin' baby, fer one," Kanna scoffed, with a flip of her long green hair, "also, th' one who can get th' kids ter stop cryin', 'n feed 'em 'n shit. 'Less you got some'un lined up fer that?"

"No–" hare-mask started to say, but Tora interrupted again.

"I think it's a good idea," he said. "She's right, the twins shouldn't be left by themselves and they'll react better in a new environment staying with her then with a stranger. Grab whatever you need," he told Kanna, who scrambled to her feet, not even bothering with modesty as she stripped out of her sleep singlet and pulled on a ratty t-shirt and skirt and a pair of beat up sandals before grabbing a change of clothes for Sansa and Naruto, along with the kanji book she and Sansa had been going through to help Sansa learn. Tora took the time to use the sleeve of his shirt and water from a canteen to wipe Sansa's mouth clean, much to her relief.

"A'right, 'm ready," Kanna announced, expertly wrangling her long hair into a plait one-handed while holding the book and clothes under the other. Sansa thought that the ANBU actually looked impressed. She almost felt like pointing out that when someone was responsible for caring for young children, they had to relearn how to perform most everyday tasks one-handed.

The ANBU looked between the three of them before, hands moving in signs that appeared to be a form of silent communication that Sansa watched in interest. Finally, hare-mask sighed and turned to Kanna. "You're with me," he said reluctantly. "I need you to jump on me."

"Well, yer more of an asshole then wot I usually go for," Kanna said, sweeping her eyes up and down him, "but I might jump ya, if ya ask me real nice."

"I meant, jump on my back!" Hare-mask hissed. "So I can carry you!"

"Then why didn' ya jus' say so?" Kanna asked, aggrieved, rolling her eyes. Sansa caught her wink though, when the ANBU turned his back so she could climb on. So did Tora, if his silent laughter was anything to go by. Kanna handed Naruto over to Tora, apparently not trusting frog-mask with him, not after how the first time had gone, before easily scaling up onto the ANBU's back.

Sansa kept her face buried in Tora's vest the entire journey, not lifting it until they'd arrived. By comparison, Naruto giggled and shrieked with laughter the entire time they sped across the rooftops, clapping his hands delightedly. When they arrived, Sansa was both surprised and not surprised to realise they'd been brought to the Hokage Tower. Instead of being shown to the Hokage, however, the three of them were hurried to a small room furnished with several mats, blankets, toys, books and food.

"The moment the door closes, it can't be opened again for twenty-four hours outside of an emergency," Tora explained to Kanna, who nodded.

"'Kay," she said, her legs only slightly wobbly as she climbed down from hare-mask's back and accepted Sansa and Naruto from Tora. "I'll take good care of 'em, yeah? Promise."

"I know you will," Tora said, and even though she couldn't see his face, Sansa could hear his smile. "I trust you."

Sansa watched the three ANBU leave and door close behind them only for the back of the door to light up as lines of soft gold lit up, spiralling out in lines and swirls. Seals, she realised, automatically leaning forwards and tracing them with her eyes. It didn't itch like the one on the heart-tree did, but she still felt like it was... off. Like a lute hitting the wrong note during a song.

"Fancy," Kanna commented, before placing them on the ground before heading straight to the food. "Look," she said excitedly, "they got inari!"

"Wa's 'nari?" Naruto asked curiously, toddling over to her.

"What is inari," Sansa corrected him, following them both.

"'S a rice ball in a tofu pouch," Kanna explained. "My mama used ta make 'em as offerings ta Inari-sama."

"Who's Inari-sama?" Sansa asked, curious. She knew the honorific 'sama' was used to denote someone of great importance– so far, she'd only heard it used in conjunction with the Hokage and Clan Heads.

"Inari-sama is a god," Kanna explained, "see, 'e's mostly worshipped by merchants 'n tradesman, but 'e's also associated wiv brothels 'n entertainers. My mama, she worked in th' Red Light District, yeah? So she prayed to Inari-sama an' we would make inari together ta leave at 'is shrine."

Kanna sighed, looking down at the inari in her hand. "Tried goin' there after me 'n Kento buried 'er," she said quietly, Sansa and Naruto both silent as they listened to her speak. "But when I got ta th' shrine, I saw it was trashed. People 'ad just... come 'n destroyed it, smashed all th' statues 'n shit."

"Why?" Sansa asked, horrified at such wickedness and sacrilege. She was shocked that Inari-sama hadn't struck the blasphemers down where they stood.

"'Cause," Kanna said softly, still looking down, "Inari-sama's also a god of foxes."

And Sansa had an idea.

Chapter Text

TWELVE

Finding the shrine was easy. Sansa, Naruta and Kanna had been let out of the room in the Hokage Tower after the promised twenty-four hours and instead of returning to the orphanage after been left at its door, Kanna hoisted a twin up on each hip and started what was for her a familiar trek.

"There woz prob'ly a bigger, nicer shrine, for th' more civ'lized people," Kanna explained as she wove through the streets. They were surprisingly empty and Sansa supposed the villagers must be weary after celebrating the "defeat" of the Kyuubi. "But us sinners, we lot had our own." She grinned down at them, all crooked teeth and good cheer. Sansa wondered again, how Kanna could understand that she and Naruto weren't responsible for the victims of Kurama being controlled when the rest of Konoha couldn't. Kanna had lost her mother to Kurama, and later lost her brother when he tried to take vengeance, yet she could still smile at them.

Kanna led them out of the village proper, veering around the edge of what she told them was one of the training grounds for shinobi and making her way to a winding river. To Sansa's surprise, as they followed the river they came across some sort of strange wooden structure; a set of two wooden pillars with rope tied between them that followed alongside the left of the river. The pillars had clearly once been painted a lustrous fiery red, but the paint had faded and was peeling and some of the ropes looked badly frayed. Still, sets of these pillars and rope continued along beside the river until it curved out of sight, not far ahead.

Sansa turned up at Kanna and gave her a pleading look, silently begging for an explanation. Kanna laughed. "They're torri," she explained, "they're gateways– they mark the change from th' normal world ter th' sacred, 'n tha' rope is shimenawa– sacred rope. It marks a pure place." She then sighed. "Looks real bad, huh?" she muttered, before stepping up to the first torri. She put them both down on the ground and showed them how to stop at each torri and bow twice then clap before moving on. As they copied her, Sansa could feel the hair on her arms raising as the air around them seemed to shiver.

They rounded the curve of the river and Kanna let out a horrified gasp that Sansa echoed. "Oh no!" the older girl moaned, while Sansa could only stare in silent shock. The deep red shrine was still standing, the sacrilege hadn't reached the point of total destruction, but all the fox statues lining the overgrown, cracked stone pathway had been smashed to pieces.

"It looks even worse," Kanna moaned, before bravely moving onward, Sansa and Naruto following after. Kanna paused to bow twice and clap before entering the shrine and Sansa followed her lead, prompting Naruto to copy her. Her brother giggled, seeming to find the whole thing to be some kind of game. Ahead of them, Kanna moaned again at seeing all the damage inside.

It looked as if someone had taken some sort of heavy, blunt object to the inside of the shrine and swung it about in a fit of wild abandon. Sansa hugged one of the trembling Kanna's legs, while Naruto– who appeared to have realised that something was wrong, by the alarmed look on his face– flung his arms around Kanna's other leg and squeezed tightly.

"Mama would hate this," Kanna choked out, "I 'ad 'oped some'un would 'ave come an' fixed it, but they jus' left it, Ko-chan! They abandoned it!" She looked at Sansa with wet eyes and Sansa's heart ached with understanding at the loss she saw there. 

"Then we'll fix it," she said. Kanna looked blankly at her.

"'Ow the bloody fuck are we s'posed ta do that?" she asked. Sansa wondered when exactly it was that Kanna had forgotten Sansa was supposed to be two years old– she never spoke to Naruto like this. She rather hoped, though, that Kanna never remembered– she preferred it this way.

"Well," Sansa mused, looking around, "let's start with getting all the rubbish out. Then we're going to need cleaning supplies and paint. Lots of paint."

The look on Kanna's face was slightly shifty as she suddenly grinned, sly as a fox. "I reckon I know a place ta get my 'ands on some paint," she said.

Sansa noticed and dismissed the fact that Kanna never said anything about buying the paint. So long as she didn't get caught, her methods for acquiring their supplies was ultimately inconsequential.

"It's going to take time," she warned, "lots of time, and effort too. But if there's one thing we all have, it's time. It's not like the matron is going to notice three of us missing in a whole house of us."

Actually, that might not be true considering just who Naruto and Sansa were, but nobody but the Hokage and a handful of other high-ranking officials were supposed to know that secret. And considering they consisted of a set of two-year olds and one three-and-ten year old with a very limited selection of supplies, it was going to take them at least three or four turns of the moon to get the place in working order. But Sansa was running out of options for helping Kurama and requesting aid from a fox god to help a fox seemed like the logical next step, and said fox god would be more likely to help her if she'd earned his favour.

But even if she wasn't trying to win Inari-sama's favour, Sana thought that the way Kanna's face had gone bright with hope would have convinced her to help regardless.

"Let's get started," she said, and Kanna beamed.

It didn't take them long to run into their first obstacle, however. Namely, the honden.

At Sansa's request, Kanna had explained the shrine lay-out to her while they sat down and discussed what work needed to be done. The part of the shrine were in was the haiden– the hall of worship. This part of the shrine was open to everyone and was positioned in front of the honden. And the honden was where things got difficult, because Kanna was reluctant to go inside it despite Sansa pointing out the necessity.

"I dunno," she kept saying nervously, hesitating before the entrance to the honden at the back of the haiden she'd reluctantly let Sansa drag her to, Naruto on her hip. "We ain't priests, only priests 'n kami are s'posed ta go in there."

Kanna had explained that the honden was the most sacred building in the shrine; no worshippers were allowed inside, only the priests. It was intended only for the use of the enshrined kami. It was the heart of the shrine– and the location of the go-shintai, the sacred object worshipped as a repository within which a kami may choose to reside.

"I understand, however we must," Sansa said firmly. "We wish to restore this shrine for Inari-sama and it was you who told me that the first and foremost duty of a shrine is to house and protect its go-shintai and kami. Is that not correct?"

"Nah, yer... yer righ'," Kanna said miserably. She took a shaky breath, awkwardly bowing twice balancing Naruto on her hip and clapping her hands. Naruto clapped too while Sansa copied her movements and then Kanna took another shaky breath and reached out to carefully open the door. She then gasped. So did Sansa. Naruto just made an excited sound.

"Foxy!" He cried out, delighted.

Foxy, indeed, Sansa thought.

Around the room, jewelled eyes gleamed from where they were set in the faces of carved fox votives. Some of the foxes had multiple tails, like Kurama did, some as few as two or as many as eight. There was no damage here, no desecration; it was if the honden was untouched and perfectly preserved in time. A braided shimenawa hung over the doorway, silk mural paintings depicting Inari-sama and foxes with multiple tails– including one that looked suspiciously like Kurama– hung from the walls, and in the centre of the room, high on a wooden pedestal, was a tightly rolled scroll of old parchment edged with gold.

Despite all the art and colour around it, the scroll was what caught Sansa's eye. At each end of the scroll was a gold rod topped with gold finials carved to look like fox tails. The gold-edged parchment was then rolled up and tied with a golden silk ribbon upon which was embroidered the most complicated, intricate seal Sansa had seen yet, the flowing twists, curves and lines of the kanji so immaculate, so perfect, they were nothing short of divine. She had no doubt that the scroll was the go-shintai, not when just looking at it made the breath catch in her chest.

Beside her, Kanna had dropped to her knees, hugging Naruto tight in her arms. "Inari-sama 'as not abandoned th' shrine," she breathed, her face shining with joy and hope, before she turned to face Sansa, eyes bright with determination. "We 'ave to restore it," she said. "I don' care 'ow much work it takes, or 'ow long, we 'ave to do it. We're gonna fix this shrine." 

~

It was fortunate that Kanna had decided she didn't care about the effort or time required to restore the shrine because it appeared that Sansa's newfound youth had made her an optimist. Three to four moons had come and gone with a blink of an eye and they were still working on restoring the shrine to its former glory– or at least to the closest approximation to it they could manage.

They could get away from the orphanage to the shrine about three or four days a week, and they'd spent the entire first two turns of the moon cleaning out animal leavings, clearing the shrine of all furnishings and items ruined beyond salvation which they then had to carry to the village's waste plot, nearly a half hour's walk away, and digging holes to bury the ruined fox statues, because none of them were strong enough to carry the stone all the way to the waste plot, nor did they want to be seen carrying them.

To Sansa's relief, the water damage inside the shrine was minimal and none of the flooring or the roof had rotten through. She wasn't sure what they could have done if that had been the case. She remembered overseeing the rebuilding efforts of Winterfell, both after the Boltons had finally been defeated and after the Long Night. It had been a long and difficult process, particularly replacing the wooden floors where they had rotted through or where insects had burrowed inside and destroyed the integrity of the wood. She, Kanna and Naruto simply weren't equipped with the necessary knowledge or skill to successfully complete a task of that nature.

After clearing out the shrine of waste, the next step was scrubbing it within an inch of itself. Naruto had a blast, playing in the soapy bubbles and throwing his sponge everywhere. Kanna and Sansa had significantly less fun with their wood varnish and bleach and other cleaning chemicals Sansa had never even heard of before, let alone touched. There had always been maids to do this sort of work, even during the worst of times, and Sansa found herself honestly humbled to be rolling up the sleeves of her old, second-hand dress and getting on her small knees to scrub the floor clean of mold, droppings, dust and unidentifiable slime, amongst other things. She suspected she may be having a sort of epiphany.

After the cleaning came the painting of the inside of the shrine. Kanna warned them to be careful of the paint fumes, though Sansa suspected with Kurama's ability to heal them of poisons she and Naruto would be fine. She listened to Kanna's warnings anyway, though– there was no reason to test such a thing, especially so far away from help. 

The painting was a difficult ordeal considering none of them were particularly tall– especially her and Naruto– and they gave the roof up as a lost cause, though by making a human tower of Sansa standing on Kanna's shoulders and then Naruto standing on Sansa's shoulders they managed to get most of the highest parts of the wall. They also managed to get a lot of paint on themselves, but Kanna had made them strip to their underwear only before they started painting and they jumped in the river afterwards to clean off, Kanna holding them so they didn't drown. 

They didn't just have the inside to fix, however, they also had the outside. Just to start with, they had to tackle the wildly overgrown weeds that had taken over. Naruto quickly discovered a love for gardening and started crying when they pulled out the weeds he kept planting back in the soil. Kanna had to promise to "buy" him some seeds for him to plant and explain how weeds were evil and strangled other plants to get his tears to stop. After weeding, they did their best to fix the cracked stones of the path, but there was little they could do there other than collect smaller rocks from around the area and place them in the cracks to fill it up.

Painting the outside of the shrine was even worse then painting the inside. They'd had to make a human tower again to have any hope at all of reaching the higher parts of the shrine and they'd given the roof up as a lost cause from the beginning. They also had to paint the torri, again using a human tower, and look into replacing some of the shimenawa. 

Unsurprisingly, shimenawa weren't easy to find and the sacred ropes were one thing that Kanna was reluctant to steal. In the end, they'd just had to reinforce the more frayed braided ropes with wire Kanna had found on one of the shinobi training fields– which were technically forbidden to civilians, Kanna had added to her explanation with a wink– and hope it wasn't too sacrilegious.

It wasn't until nearly eight turns of the moon that they'd finished enough of the repairs and restorations that they could turn to decorating the shrine. Unsurprisingly, none of the shops or market stalls in Konoha sold fox statues in any shape or form. They'd been stumped for a few days on what to do, but in the end it was Naruto who came up with a solution for them– he drew them a picture. Of an orange blob, actually, but he drew it and said it was a "foxy" for their "'nari shrine" and Kanna's eyes lit up.

Kanna, it turned out, had a skill for something she called 'origami'. It involved folding colourful squares of paper into little sculptures– including little orange, red and white foxes that they could use as a replacement for statues. She only ever folded her origami foxes in the shrine, doing her best to teach Sansa and Naruto the more simplified versions. Sansa's tiny, still-clumsy fingers struggled with some of the finer folds but she persevered. Naruto gave up halfway and happily continued drawing his "foxys" to stick on the walls with sticks of coloured wax.

Once they had a sizeable collection of the origami foxes– and even a few kitsune, as Kanna had finally explained to Sansa foxes with multiple tails were called– they threaded them onto a length of Kanna's ill-begotten shinobi wire and carefully attached the wire so it ran along the left, right and far wall of the haiden.

As the final touch, Kanna very carefully pinned two of the origami foxes to the outside of the shrine with long, thin, sharp pieces of metal she called senbon– incidentally, the same weapon once used to kill the bird that Sansa had been warged into– that she'd found in another shinobi training ground. After all, every shrine needed a pair of shinshi to guard its entrance.

"We did it," Kanna said, the disbelief strong in her voice.

Sansa felt a great deal of disbelief too. Even Naruto, little as he was, was looking up at the shrine with wide eyes.

"No more fix?" he asked sounding bewildered.

"No more fix," Kanna confirmed.

"Whoa," he said, sounding amazed. Then he pouted. "But it nice here!"

"Just because it's fixed, doesn't mean we won't be coming here," Sansa told him. "After all, we'll have to make sure it stays fixed."

Kurama and Tsukiko wouldn't be happy if it fell into disrepair again, after all. They'd both been following the efforts to restore the shrine closely and had always sounded pleased whenever she reported their progress back to them. 

Kurama had been particularly enraged to hear of the desecration to Inari-sama's shrine. They'd ranted about humans for a solid hour, their burning, corrosive chakra scouring her skin, even through the protection of the weirwood cage. Tsukiko's anger had been a quieter, icier thing. "The humans of Konoha are good at placing blame where it does not belong," she'd said coolly. Sansa could not have agreed with her more.

"Let's go pray," Kanna said, and if her eyes were wet, well, Sansa remembered how she'd felt the first time after her lord-father's execution that she'd knelt before the heart-tree in the godswood of Winterfell, or the first time she'd entered the restored sept in Winterfell where her murdered lady-mother had once prayed.

Inside the haiden, Kanna reached into her pockets to pull out three slightly squashed inari, three sticks of incense and a box of matches. Lighting the incense, she passed one stick and one inari each to Sansa and Naruto. Naruto tried to eat his inari and Kanna had to promise there was one waiting for him back at the orphanage to stop him. "Wave your incense around your face and tell Inari-sama your heart's deepest wish," Kanna told Naruto, "but say it in your head, because it's just between you and Inari-sama."

"Okay," Naruto said, screwing his face up adorably as he thought about it. Sansa watched how Kanna waved her incense around her face and copied the older girl's movements.

Inari-sama, she prayed, please guide me. I need to know how to free Kurama, the Nine-Tailed Kitsune, from their prison inside my brother and I– but without harming the Sacrifice, for I love my brother dearly and he is but a babe, not even three, and I wish him to live a long, happy, healthy life. Please, Inari-sama, guide me on how I can achieve this.

~

That night, Sansa dreamed.

She dreamed of a woman, porcelain fair with hair as red as the Inari shrine piled atop her head in two rolls secured by hairpins from which hung two sealing scrolls. The woman's hands were splattered with ink and blood and she knelt before a white-furred fox. 

"Forgive me," the woman said, "I had no choice"

"We always have choices," the fox replied, "you chose to let them bind you in chains of your own making."

The woman bowed her head. "I know," she whispered. "I know." The fox sighed, leaning forwards to nudge her with their nose.

"Oh Mito-chan," they said, "We cannot forget and it is not Our place to forgive, but We ask you now– what will you do?"

The woman– Mito– was silent for a long moment, before she finally lifted her head. "I will not rest," she said, "until my mistake has been undone."

The fox made a churring sound. "Do you give your Word, Uzumaki Mito, that this will be so?"

Uzumaki Mito raised her chin high. "I give my Word, Inari-sama."

"Then let it be done." 

Chapter Text

THIRTEEN

"Obviously," Sansa said, "it means something."

"You don't say," Kurama replied sarcastically, tails slashing from side to side. Sansa had gotten quite good at reading Kurama's moods by the slightest twitch of a single one of their nine tails, but she didn't need to be an expert to see how frustrated they were. "The gods are cryptic bastards at the best of times," Kurama muttered, more to themself then to Sansa. "But Inari is the worst."

"It's still something we have now that we didn't have before," Sansa offered then sighed, sitting down in the snow. It wasn't cold to touch, which just felt odd to her. She ran her fingers through it, feeling the consistency. It was too light, too fluffy, like it could all just blow away in a gust of wind. Sighing again, Sansa turned back up to Kurama. "Are you sure Mito is dead?" She asked.

"She did not survive my extraction," Kurama confirmed. "It is possible for a Jinchūriki to survive the extraction under the right circumstances, but she was old and weak. She had more years left in her, but Konoha wanted a weapon of war, not an old woman."

"Then what did she mean, she would not 'rest' until her mistake was undone?" Sansa asked, frustrated. "Are we even certain the mistake she was referring to is the creation of the first Jinchūriki?"

Kurama's tails stilled for a moment and Sansa frowned. "Kurama," she said slowly, "Mito was the first Jinchūriki, right?"

"There was one before her," Kurama said after a moment, "But I will speak no more of it."

Sansa nodded, even as her mind spun with this new, surprising information. "That is your right, of course," she said. "But if Mito's mistake wasn't the creation of the first Jinchūriki, perhaps it was sealing you and assisting the Shodaime in hunting down and sealing your siblings? That is a horrendously big mistake to have made."

"She never once expressed any regret to me," Kurama said bitterly.

"It can be difficult, to face the reality of our mistakes," Sansa said quietly. "One of the worst mistakes of my life happened when I was very young. I trusted the wrong person and as a result my father was executed before my eyes. My betrothed made me look at his head on a pike as it rotted, along with the rest of our household staff and guard, all the faces I'd grown up with." Sansa closed her eyes, unable to forget the haunting sight, even so many years later.

"He kept taking me up there until there was nothing left of them but skulls," she murmured. "For weeks I was forced to look at the wretched magnitude of what my mistake had cost me and so many others. It was a harsh lesson, and one I never forgot. I couldn't hide from my mistakes, not when the price was so high. But it is far too easy to hide from your shame, your guilt. It's harder to face it and admit your fault. And some people... some people spend all their life running and hiding from their mistakes, too afraid to face what they have done."

"I will never forgive her," Kurama said darkly.

"And no one is asking you to," Sansa told them. "Even if someone apologises, even if they feel guilt or remorse, you don't have to forgive them. You don't have to forget that they did wrong by you. That is and always will be your choice to make."

Kurama was silent for a long moment. "I have never met a human quite like you before," they said, finally. Sansa smiled.

"Oh, just you wait until Naruto is old enough to meet your counterpart," she said.

"The whelp?" Kurama asked, looking unimpressed. 

"You're going to love him," Sansa said confidently.

"And you, little vixen, are biased," Kurama said, looking faintly disgusted at the very thought. Sansa just laughed.

"Oh, I bet you a gold dragon you're wrong," she said. "Ah, currency in my old world," she clarified, when Kurama looked confused.

"I'll take that bet," Kurama decided. "Loving a human– that will never happen."

Sansa thought of her bright little brother, with hair like sunshine and eyes like the ocean and chakra like a storm, and could only smile.

~

The twins third name-day arrived with Sansa and Kurama no closer to deciphering the cryptic dream Inari-sama had sent her. Sansa had dreamt the same scene eight more times since and they had continued to puzzle over the details.

Tora came to collect them again on the eve of their name-day, this time accompanied by a woman in a butterfly-mask. Unable to stop herself, while Kanna packed a change of clothes and the book of kanji that they'd made pitifully little progress through Sansa looked up at Tora with eyes she purposefully widened to look pitiful and pleading and asked in her sweetest voice, "is Inu-san alright?"

Sansa felt Tora react more then she witnessed any outward change. His chakra twisted into something she was beginning to recognise as a combination of fear-worry-anger and that told her everything she needed to know. If Tora was worrying about him then Inu– or rather, Kakashi, the silver-haired boy who'd called her and Naruto pack, who'd tried to adopt them, who had wanted them– had to be alive for Tora to worry about.

"Inu's fine, Fuyuko-chan," Tora said, leaning down to squeeze her shoulder. Clearly he'd been watching her enough to know how much she hated having her hair touched. It reached her mid-back now and she braided it every morning– which certainly helped improve her finger dexterity. She'd braided it in milkmaid braids that morning, a style that kept her hair off her neck and close to her scalp, because she felt paranoid around the anniversary of Kurama's unwilling attack. Paranoid and afraid, for herself and for Naruto. 

Even though hare-mask and frog-mask had scared her the previous year, with their social inept idiocy in just snatching her and Naruto from Kanna's arms, she was thankful to the Hokage for his foresight in removing her and Naruto to a safe place during the festivities where people drank and grieved. Tora had mentioned the things getting out of hand and Kanna had later whispered to her about angry mobs and vandalism and Sansa had seen the destruction of Inari's shrine, she had witnessed the rage, the terror of Konoha's populace.

Angry mobs was a fear that would never leave Sansa. It had been decades since the bread riots in King's Landing and she'd been in what were arguably far more terrible situations in the years since, but the emotional scars left from that day ran deep. She had just seen the septon torn apart by the mobs' bare hands and she'd been convinced those men were going to rape her then brutally murder her. She had been a child, alone and terrified and expecting to die horribly and one had grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled, panting over her asking, "you ever been fucked little girl?" and–

–and as she said, the emotional scars ran deep. It was terrifying, to be small and vulnerable and know that people wanted to hurt her, to kill her, and there was next to nothing she could do about it.

(Not yet.)

The day after their name-day, Kanna surprised both her and Naruto with presents. Sansa was delighted with her hair ribbons in blue and silver and white satiny material. Naruto was just as excited with his stuffed toy wolf, which he named Inu-chan. No amount of explaining that 'Inu' meant 'dog' could get him to change his mind.

Having the hair ribbons reminded Sansa fondly of how she used to embroider hers, back in Westeros. It also made her think of the seal in Inari-sama's shrine, the one embroidered on the silk ribbon, so she approached Kanna and asked the older girl if she could locate her a needle and thread and some old fabric to practice on. Kanna was surprised– Sansa supposed it was an unusual request– but she promised to look around for some. It took her a few days but she managed to find a lovely bright blue spool of thread, an old bit of grey fabric and a perfectly serviceable sewing needle.

Threading the needle took longer than Sansa was used to; Sansa had excelled at sewing and embroidery, it was something she took a great deal of pride in and she found it quite demoralising to struggle with something so simple. Her small fingers were simply unused to such a task. Nevertheless, she persisted and after a few tries, she managed to thread the needle.

Smiling, she started with an easy stitch, simply hemming the fabric in a pattern that suggested a wolf's teeth. The first twenty or so were shaky and uneven but by around the hundredth 'tooth' they were as tight and even as any other stitch Sansa had ever sewn. Pleased, she tied off the end of the thread expertly then cut the thread with one of her sharp teeth.

Next, she put her embroidery skills to the test. While she'd have liked to start with a wolf, she went with something simpler– a winter rose. Her father had always hated them; she'd always thought it was because of the crown of winter roses Prince Rhaegar crowned her Aunt Lyanna with. Now though she knew it was because her Aunt had bled to death in a room overflowing with the blooms. Still, even if the winter roses were never displayed in vases in Winterfell, they still grew out on the grounds and a young Sansa had woven more than just one wreath of them for her brothers to crown her Queen of Love and Beauty when they were playing Knights and Ladies.

The embroidery was harder without a hoop or frame but Sansa was experienced, even if her hands weren't. The result was a clumsy rose, but still a rose. The second winter rose looked better, the third better still. By her tenth rose, it was almost as good as it would have been with a hoop and she was almost as satisfied with her small hands as she was going to get.

Also, she was out of thread.

When she asked Kanna that evening about getting some more thread, the older girl asked what had happened to the spool of blue thread. Sansa showed her the fabric with the wolf teeth hem and rose embroidery and Kanna went very quiet for a moment, looking at the fabric thoughtfully before asking if she could borrow it for a night. Sansa agreed.

The next morning Sansa was approached by the matron in the playroom. She was frowning down at Sansa and she was holding the fabric Sansa had given Kanna the previous night in her hand.

"Kanna said you did this," the matron said, waving the fabric about. Sansa nodded, easily slipping into her little dove mask; sweet, pure-hearted, a little dim, and easily frightened. It was surprisingly easy to do, even with the sharp teeth. "Hmm," the matron looked thoughtfully down at her. "You're good. Very good. That sort of talent shouldn't go to waste. We send a lot of clothing off to get mended, if you mend it for us you'll get a small allowance." Sansa's eyes widened slightly in true surprise even as she nodded hurriedly. The matron smiled and it softened her hard face slightly. "Come along, girl," she said, "the sheets won't mend themselves."

Sansa eagerly followed after her.

It was hard work, but even as it made her hands ache and her fingers bleed until they formed familiar callouses, Sansa was proud of how her body began to instinctively remember what her mind already did. Her fingers still lagged behind slightly, but as the moons passed by Sansa got quicker and stronger, advancing from mending sheets and blankets to fixing buttons and clothes.

Naruto didn't like that she was spending half the day away from him and started crying every time she left, but Sansa remembered when her lady-mother had had the same problem with Rickon. She did the same thing with Naruto that Catelyn had done with Rickon; she kissed him on his tear-stained cheek, promised him that she would return, then left without looking back over her shoulder, even as her heart hurt to hear his cries.

As well as her sewing and her continued efforts to teach herself to read the characters that the Elemental Nations used as their letters, which was slowly but steadily progressing, Sansa found herself with another self-assigned task– hunting down Inu.

After she'd finished any mending she'd been assigned and she needed a break from learning her characters because they were all starting to blur together on the pages, she'd pretend to nap in the corner of the play room and warg into the various stray animals and wildlife of Konoha. 

Incidentally, that was how she found out about the forest full of oversized, man-eating beasts located far too close to the village proper for comfort. Warging into a sixteen-foot tiger was a shock she hadn't been expecting. Finding herself face to face with a three-foot-long insect hadn't been much better. Realising that both the tiger and the insect had quite strong chakra had been enough for Sansa to flee with a great deal of haste.

Mostly, she liked to stick with birds. Perhaps a little ironic, considering Sandor and Cersei's old pet-names for her, but she was no caged bird; she soared through the skies with the wind beneath her wings and the world stretched out below her like little toy buildings. It almost made her problems feel smaller, being up in the sky. 

She wondered if this was how Daenerys had felt, how Aegon and his sisters had felt, flying over Westeros on the backs of their dragons. If it was, she could almost understand their arrogance. Everything below her seemed pitifully small and insignificant from such a height.

Of course, her search for Inu was conducted at a much lower height. She mostly flitted through the streets as a common sparrow, searching for the feel of his chakra. It wasn't efficient but she didn't have any other way of searching for him and it helped her gain a better understanding of the inner workings of Konoha too. People talked in front of little birds, after all. It was an interesting way to find out the gossip from chattering housewives, information about trade routes, profits and taxes that the merchants swapped with each other and which businesses were worth investing in bankers shared during lunch.

Sansa also learnt, much to her surprise, not all the villages in this world were shinobi villages. Some were simply normal villages, like Winter Town, and there actually was a higher power that the Hokage reported to– the Fire Daimyo. He was either the equivalent to Lord Paramount or King, Sansa wasn't quite sure, she was just relieved that the Hokage didn't have absolute power– just close to it.

Still, interesting and informative as her information gathering was, and certainly something that would be useful to her in the future, it didn't help her find Inu and she was beginning to think nothing would. She considered trying to spy on the Hokage himself in his Tower but eventually decided against it; she didn't know what strange bloodline gifts the people here may have and the last thing she wanted was to appear suspicious and alert the shinobi of the village to the presence of someone able to spy on them through the eyes of the overlooked and often forgotten strays and wildlife.

"I just don't know what to do," she told Tsukiko, frustrated. "I don't know how to find him, but I can't just give up on him– he's pack."

pack/never leave behind/together/love Lady agreed. Tsukiko looked down at her thoughtfully.

"You are young," she said, and Sansa wasn't quite sure where the she-wolf was going with this, "but I believe you are ready. You are as much wolf as you are human; you and Kita are two halves of one whole and she pines for you when you are apart."

miss my sansa/pack/should be together Lady whined and Sansa wrapped herself warmly around Lady's presence, until they were so closely entwined they were, as Tsukiko had said, one whole.

"That is why," Tsukiko continued, "I think you are ready." The she-wolf looked down at Sansa with large, unblinking golden eyes. "It is time for you to sign the Wolf Summons Contract. And with Kita at your side, perhaps you will find your missing pack." 

Chapter Text

FOURTEEN

Sansa's eyes widened as she stared up at Tsukiko in surprise. "Really?" she breathed. Tsukiko huffed in amusement, bending over to gently nip one of her ears.

"Yes, really," she said. "Little dream walker, you embody the spirit of a wolf like I have only seen in one human bloodline before. I do not doubt you and you should not doubt yourself."

"Thank you," Sansa said softly and Tsukiko gave her an affectionate nuzzle.

"You will need to learn how to use your chakra and while I can tell you which hand-signs are required for the summoning jutsu, I cannot show you what they look like, so you must find that out yourself," the she-wolf explained. "But when you do, your connection to us will ensure you end up here."

"I know where I can learn the different hand-signs that shinobi use," Sansa said slowly, for she knew that some of the older orphans were attending the Academy and they had books that she could barter for. "But I haven't any idea how to learn to use my chakra."

"That is something I cannot teach you," Tsukiko admitted, "but you are clever, little one. I trust that you will find a way."

Sansa wished for nothing more then to hold Lady in her arms, to weep into her fur and apologise for letting Joffrey get her killed. She also dearly wished for Naruto and Kanna to meet Lady, the second half of her soul, for them to love Lady as they loved her. And, if only for her peace of mind, she wished for the pair of them, her and Lady together, to track Inu down, to make sure he was alright.

And to do all that, she needed to learn how to use her chakra.

"What do I need to do after I can use my chakra?" she asked, refusing to even entertain the possibility of failure. Tsukiko looked down at her approvingly and began to explain.

~

Kurama was the first one Sansa spoke to about learning to use chakra, but as a living chakra entity Kurama had no concept of a human's perspective of chakra use so they were of little use in the matter.

Kanna was her first resource outside of Kurama, as she usually was. The green-haired girl looked a little confused at why Sansa was asking. "Chakra?" she said. "I dunno, Ko-chan. Tha's ninja stuff, yeah? S'pose you could ask Jiro, 'e's in th' Academy an' 'e don' mind ya."

Jiro didn't mind Sansa, but he also didn't have time to answer her questions. He just told her she could borrow his Academy textbook in return for three weeks worth of her allowance, but she had to return it to him at the end of the day. Sansa smiled sweetly at him, flashing sharp teeth before haggling him down to two weeks of allowance for three days use of the textbook.

Sansa chose the shrine to try the summoning, feeling that privacy would be ideal. She hid the book under her dress, not wanting any of the ANBU watchers to see her with it. The last thing she wanted was any of them reporting to the Hokage that she'd shown interest in becoming one of his soldiers.

She could feel one of the ANBU watchers break away and follow her on her journey to the shrine, quick and darting around the villagers who scowled and glared at her if the saw her. Sansa let their hate slide off her, uninterested in it. If they were incapable of seeing a human child instead of Kurama, then they simply weren't worth her or Naruto's time.

Arriving at the shrine, Sansa slipped inside, still able to feel her ANBU watcher in the distance but confident in her knowledge that they wouldn't disturb her while she was on sacred ground. It was also the one place she and Kurama had discussed that, so long as they weren't a sensor-type, they stayed distant enough that they shouldn't feel a surge of chakra when she used the summoning jutsu- they had always kept a respectful distance during their rebuilding of the shrine.

Sliding the textbook out from under her dress, Sansa flipped it open. She still wasn't the best at reading the written characters, but she found she could understand about every second or third word in Jiro's textbook and quickly found the section she was looking for. To her relief, there were several diagrams and illustrations included and it didn't take her long to locate the diagrams she was looking for, which were easier to make sense of then the lengthy block of information.

Awkwardly copying the cross-legged position illustrated, Sansa closed her eyes and followed the instructions outlined in the text; she breathed deeply, held it for a count of four, then exhaled. Breath in. Hold. Breath out. In. Hold. And out. She let herself remember what Kurama's chakra had felt like; the wildfire scorching her heart, rushing through the marrow of her bones, burning under skin. In, hold, and out. In, hold, and out. Sinking deeper, deeper, deeper.

Sansa could feel her body loosen with each repetition as she sank deeper and deeper until she became aware of the flowing currents, deep within her. Like the pull of the tide, Sansa let it drag her forwards and, eyes still closed, she sank into her chakra. It was like sinking into the freezing depths of the ocean; opening her mouth, she let the icy water rush in and consume her.

Sansa's eyes flew open and she gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Her lips were ice-cold.

'Little vixen?' Kurama's voice rumbled uneasily at the back of her mind. 'What happened?'

"I'm not sure," Sansa whispered. "But..." she held out her hand, concentrating until she could feel the ocean currents deep under her skin, then guiding them until they converged into an eddy under her palm.

'Well done,' Kurama praised. Sansa smiled, releasing her hold on the eddy, allowing her chakra to flow normally and turning to her next task.

Finding the hand-signs Tsukiko had told her about in Jiro's book was simple. There were diagrams and illustrations and Sansa practiced the basic shapes over and over. They were strange, unfamiliar positions to twist her fingers into that made her glad for the finger dexterity that braiding and sewing gave her.

Once she was confident that she couldn't get anything wrong, she took a deep breath, nicking her thumb with her sharp teeth the way she'd been instructed by Tsukiko, before once again focusing on her chakra, on drawing upon the flow of the tides under her skin, the rush of the waves in the marrow of her bones, the whirlpools in her heart. Redirecting the ocean currents to her hands, she formed the hand-signs– Boar, Dog, Bird, Monkey, Ram– "Kuchiyose no Jutsu!" she breathed, letting the ocean surge up inside her then crash out in a tidal wave as she slammed her hands to the floor.

All of a sudden the world shifted around her. It was an awful sensation; she felt deaf, mute, and blind, all at once. It felt as if it lasted an eternity until she felt loose, damp earth beneath her hands and knees. Moments later, she was bowled over.

"Sansa!" cried an excitable voice. "Sansa! Oh Sansa!"

"Lady!" Sansa couldn't help the tears of joy that welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she threw her arms around her wolf's neck. Lady was far bigger then she'd realised, though she supposed everything seemed smaller compared to Tsukiko. Lady was about the size of a hunting hound and Sansa was tiny beside her. Her wolf had to lay down on her stomach so Sansa could shower her face and ears with kisses. "Oh sweetling, I missed you, I missed you," she wept. "I'm so sorry I let them–"

"No," Lady interrupted with a whine, shuffling forwards, licking at the tear tracks on Sansa's cheeks. "No, Sansa, not your fault!"

"Yes it was, it was," Sansa insisted. "I was so stupid."

"Not your fault," Lady insisted again, "Joffrey's fault, Cersei's fault, not Sansa's!"

"I wouldn't try arguing with her," a familiar, amused voice said, "she's very stubborn."

Sansa looked up. And up. And up.

Tsukiko towered over her; not quite as much as Kurama did, but still enormous when compared to Sansa's tiny body.

"Oh my," Tsukiko sounded amused, "you are a little thing, aren't you?"

"I've got many years of growing left in me yet," Sansa answered diplomatically and Tsukiko made an amused chuffing sound. Lady nudged Sansa's cheek and licked her ear and Sansa giggled, not caring about the mess or the saliva or anything except the fact that Lady was here and she was alive and Sansa was hugging her, feeling how gloriously warm and soft she was.

"Did you bring hair ribbons?" Lady asked hopefully and Sansa couldn't help her delighted laughter. She unthreaded the blue ribbon from her own braid and Lady preened as she wove it into Lady's fur, the way she once had, so many decades ago.

"Oh dear-heart," she whispered, running her hands through soft fur, "I have missed you. I made sure my children grew up with their own direwolf companions, of course, but every time I saw them together... oh, it was like half of me had been carved out. And I kept thinking... those pups should have been your pups."

"We belong together," Lady said fiercely, her lips pulled back to reveal vicious canines. "We belong together always– nobody can keep us apart again!"

Sansa buried her face in Lady's fur, holding onto her wolf as she shook.

She felt Tsukiko's hot breath on the back of her neck as the enormous she-wolf bent over and nudged her back. "I have the scroll for you to sign, little dream walker," she said gently. "So you and Kita may never be parted." Pulling her face from Lady's fur and drying her eyes with the skirt of her dress, Sansa turned to see the scroll that Tsukiko had referred to. The she-wolf had placed it on the ground and there were only a few scattered names on the yellowing parchment.

"You must sign in your own blood," Tsukiko told her and Sansa hesitated.

"I'm afraid I don't know how to write my name, either of my names, in the language of the Elemental Nations," she admitted. "May I write them in the language of the world I was first born to?"

"You may," Tsukiko allowed and Sansa raised her finger to her mouth, only to pause again.

"You said once that shinobi called you summons," she said, "and they called this the summons realm, but that you had your own name. May I ask what you call yourselves?"

Tsukiko laughed.

"Oh my dear," she said, "you really are born to rule, aren't you? I pity any who think to try and get one over on you." Settling on her haunches, Tsukiko met Sansa's blue eyes with her own great, unblinking golden ones. "We have many names," she said, "for there are many of us. But while shinobi may define our existence by the purpose we serve to them, summons, we define ourselves for our own existence; spirits."

Sansa nodded and smiled. "Thank you for clarifying," she said, before lifting her finger to her mouth and cutting it as deep as she could stand to, knowing that it would heal far too quickly and not wanting to have to repeat the process, telling herself there is no pain. She then moved her finger to the scroll and traced her names out over the parchment.

Sansa Stark of the North, Uzumaki Fuyuko of Uzushiogakure

She closed her eyes as she lifted her finger, the cut already having sealed over, tight pink skin replacing the scab. She could feel something had shifted deep inside her, something as unfathomable as the tides, something with claws and fangs wrapped in silvery moonlight. 

Lady nudged her and Sansa opened her eyes again and shivered, flexing her fingers. There was something trapped behind her ribcage, something tingling behind her teeth, some deep instinct that had her tilting her head back, tugging on that silvery moonlight to line her throat, and howling.

Another howl joined hers, youthful and filled with Lady's joy and love. Sansa could hear more howls in the distance; Gin, Haya, Katsu, Suki– all of them welcoming, excited, happy.

And then Tsukiko howled with them and the sound of it shook the earth.

Sansa had to stop, out of breath, and she panted harshly even as Lady pranced around, licking her nose, her cheeks, her ears. "Sansa is the best pack-mate," her wolf crooned.

"Sansa is wonderful," Tsukiko agreed, and Sansa's eyes widened as she realised that was the first time that Tsukiko had ever spoken her name.

It seemed she had finally earned the privilege.

"And now," Tsukiko continued, "it is time for you to meet our Alpha."

Sansa's eyes widened.

"Pardon?" she asked, looking down at the ratty, second-hand dress she was wearing, patting at her hair, which thanks to Lady's exuberance was mussed beyond being fixable.

"You humans," Tsukiko laughed, "you smell like pack, Sansa, that is what matters to our Alpha, not the human trappings you wear, or how well-groomed your fur is."

"But it matters to me!" Sansa protested. "I have to present myself well! I am a Queen!" She paused. "Well, I was a Queen," she amended. 

"Nevertheless," Tsukiko interrupted, "Sayomi awaits."

Lady nudged her. "Climb on my back," she offered, crouching down on her stomach. Sansa, remembering the reports of Robb riding Grey Wind in battle, couldn't help but smile as she climbed onto Lady's back, gripping Lady's flanks with her legs and gently clasping onto two handfuls of fur. Lady immediately bounded forwards and Sansa laughed in delight, her hair unraveling and flowing out behind them in a red banner. Tsukiko laughed too, amused at their antics as she ran beside them.

Lady led the way through the forest; she clearly knew the way, though Sansa had never traveled this far into the forest with the wolf pups before. With the wind in her face, the forest around her and Lady's warmth beneath her, Sansa felt wild and free and filled with joy. She wanted to feel this way forever.

Finally, after about a half-hour of running, the three of them arrived at another clearing. This one was much larger, leading off to multiple caves, and Sansa sucked in a surprised breath at the number of grown wolves mingling around the clearing. They were all enormous, the same size as Tsukiko or even larger. One of the wolves, this one larger then Tsukiko by around half a length, turned at the sound of Sansa's gasp. The Wolf had midnight-dark fur and eyes of palest blue, like chips of ice. When the Wolf made to walk over to them, all those in their path parted. This was, Sansa knew without doubt, the Alpha.

Sansa slid neatly from Lady's back and stepped forwards to meet the Alpha, knowing this was something she needed to do herself. "Greetings Alpha," she said, dipping into a curtsey without once lowering her eyes from the Alpha's, refusing to bare her neck. "I am Sansa Stark, also known by Uzumaki Fuyuko. It is an honour to meet you."

"Greetings," the large Wolf rumbled, "I am Sayomi, Alpha of this Pack. When Tsukiko told me she had found us a summoner with the soul of a wolf, I did not expect them to be quite so small. Or to smell like Fox."

"I have Kurama of the Nine Tails sealed inside me," Sansa said lightly. "But we're working on it."

"And are you working on your size?" Sayomi asked. Sansa smiled, baring her sharp fangs at the massive wolf at the same time as she reached for the ice-cold ocean deep within her and let it surge.

"Why ever would I need to?"

Sayomi met her gaze and held her gaze for a long, endless moment before huffing. "At least you've got some bite to your bark," she said and Sansa smiled, letting her chakra settle, let the ocean's surface turn still and calm, hiding the dangers beneath its calm surface. "I was expecting another Sakumo," Sayomi said to Tsukiko, "but you've found me a little baby Alpha. You picked well."

"Thank you, Sayomi," Tsukiko said, bowing her head slightly. "But it was Kita who truly found her. They bonded in their previous life and found each other again when their souls were reborn."

"Oh?" Sayomi looked them both over with more interest. "Reborn souls? That's rare."

"It's happened before?" Sansa asked, startled.

"Oh yes," Sayomi said. "Certain lives and certain deaths, they are significant enough that when souls pass over before their time, they are reborn into new worlds."

"Before their time... Kita? Is this true? What happened to you, my sweet pup?" Tsukiko asked with gentle concern. Lady flinched.

"My father," Sansa answered for her. "It was quick." Tsukiko briefly closed her eyes, pained.

"And you, Sansa?" she asked, and Sansa was touched, even as she managed a bitter smile.

"Mine was not quite so quick."

"Oh my little ones," Tsukiko sighed, looking mournful. "I am so sorry."

"Well I am not," Sansa said fiercely. "I accomplished exactly what I could have hoped to in my lifetime. When I died, I left behind the dynasty I created; I was a Queen, my crown forged with mine own sweat, blood and tears, and I will go down in history as the woman who gifted her children with the most precious of all gifts."

"And what gift is that?" Sayomi asked, her pale eyes piercing as they met Sansa's own. Sansa smiled, sharp and victorious.

"I gave them peace."

Sayomi bared her teeth. It took Sansa a moment to realise the she-wolf was smiling back at her, blatant approval in her pale eyes.

"Welcome to our pack," she said.

~

Chapter Text

FIFTEEN

Sansa was thoughtful as she, Tsukiko and Lady returned to Tsukiko's den where Gin, Hata, Katsu and Suki waited. Sayomi had given her much to think about and she could not deny that she was curious.

"Tsukiko," she said, once they had arrived, "who is Sakumo?"

"Ah," Tsukiko mused, "I wondered if you'd ask." The wolf let out a sigh as she settled down, folding her great, large paws and laying her head upon them. "Sakumo," she said, "was my summoner before you."

"May I ask what he was like?" Sansa asked, curious about this predecessor of hers.

"He was from Konoha," Tsukiko told her, sounding wistful. "He was a good man. He understood what pack meant, not like other humans. He had a little pup of his own, such a smart, precocious little thing. I quite adored them both– I used to babysit for Sakumo," she said, and Sansa had to smile, imagining the enormous Tsukiko taking care of a tiny human. "And Sakumo and I, we fought together so well..."

"And then came that mission," Tsukiko sighed, her head dipping. "He was faced with an impossible choice; did he continue onward, which would result in the deaths of his comrades but the possible success of the mission? Or did he save his comrades lives, at the cost of the mission?"

"He chose his comrades," Sansa knew, before Tsukiko even said anything.

"He chose his comrades," Tsukiko confirmed.

"How important was the mission?" Sansa asked, her mouth curved downward.

"It was the tipping point which started a war," the she-wolf answered quietly. "Sakumo was despised within the village, despite the inevitability of war breaking out. He suffered. His pup suffered. And in an effort to restore honour to their family name, so his son would no longer suffer the shame, he committed seppuku. We have not had a summoner since."

"Seppuku... I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with the term," Sansa admitted.

"No... I would be surprised if you had," Tsukiko murmured. "It is barbaric," this was accompanied by a snarl, "Konoha drove him to it, they shamed him, they shamed his bloodline, until he thought the only way to regain the honour of the Hatake name was to drive his own tanto through his belly and bleed out before little Kakashi!"

"He killed himself– wait, did you say Kakashi?" Sansa asked urgently. "My Kakashi?"

"Yours, is he?" Tsukiko teased, settling back down again from where she'd bristled in response to her anger.

"My protector, my pack-mate," Sansa answered simply. "Mine to care about, until he says otherwise."

Lady, a silent observer until now, nudged her wet nose to the skin on the back of Sansa's neck. Lady would always be the only one she would ever bare that vulnerable skin to. "Sansa is best pack-mate," Lady declared and Tsukiko laughed, the sound low and husky.

"So you have said, Kita."

"Because it's true," Lady said firmly and Sansa smiled, turning to kiss Lady's wet nose.

"I love you, sweetling," she said, because she would never get tired of this, of being able to touch Lady, to kiss her, to tell her that she loved her.

"I love my Sansa too," Lady said happily, bending to rub her head against Sansa's chest, almost knocking her over. Tsukiko laughed again at their antics.

"To answer your question, Sansa," she said, reminding Sansa that she had asked her a question– and an important one– "yes, your Kakashi is Sakumo's son."

"Poor Kakashi," Sansa said quietly, her mood dimming. "Watching your father die..." she closed her eyes and exhaled; the thud of Ned Stark's head hitting the ground still had its place in her nightmares, even now.

"And with Sakumo gone, little Kakashi was left with no one in the village to care for him," Tsukiko said quietly.

Sansa's eyes opened in a flash. "Pardon?" she demanded. "Did you say he was left with no one? How old was he?" The Kakashi she'd seen could barely have been more than four and ten– perhaps just old enough to live alone if he earned steady wages.

"He was a few months shy of five," Tsukiko answered.

"He was what?" Sansa asked, aghast. "He was placed in an orphanage then, yes?"

"You would think," Tsukiko said, a growl to her voice. "But he was already an Academy student and he graduated shortly after turning five, which made him legally an adult."

"Legally an– that is ludicrous!" Sansa cried out. "No, it is far worse than that– it is criminal! To do that to a child!" To Sansa's horror, she could feel hot tears sting at her eyes. "Oh, this is so ridiculous," she said wetly, covering her face with her hands. "Why am I crying?"

"Because you might have the mind of a grown woman, little one, but your body is still that of a child," Tsukiko said gently as Lady whined, concerned.

"I just... I know what it's like, when you've just watched your father die and you're alone in the world," Sansa explained, sniffing and wiping away the tears. "I wouldn't wish it on anyone... except a moderately sized list of people who I loathe."

"Moderately sized?" Tsukiko asked, looking amused.

"My sister used to recite a list of all the people she would kill before she went to sleep," Sansa explained. "I tried to do something similar, reciting a list of all my foes that had been defeated– it needn't have been me that defeated them, I wasn't picky. I was fortunate and it grew to be a very long list. Arya heard me recite it one night and started laughing– she made me shorten it down to what she called a moderately sized list of defeated enemies that I absolutely hated, so that every night I could remind myself that they were gone."

"Do you still do that?" Tsukiko asked curiously. Sansa shook her head.

"No," she said, soft and wistful. "No, now before I sleep I list different names– Torrhen, Robb, Raya, Asha, Tormund, Arya, Argella, Brienne, Galladon, Jainne... those are the names etched on my heart, forever."

"Nymeria," Lady whined softly, "Grey Wind, Ghost, Shaggy Dog, Summer."

"Torrhen named his direwolf Ice, after the lost ancestral sword of House Stark." Sansa murmured, "Robb named his Igaluk, after the Free Folk's moon god. Raya named hers Surya, a Dornish word for Sun. And Argella named hers Elenei, after the Stormlander's Storm Queen; daughter of the sea god and goddess of the wind.

"Ice, Igaluk, Surya, Elenei," Lady said softly, and Sansa stroked the closest soft ear. Lady leaned into the touch.

"I wish you could have seen them," she said wistfully. "I wish you could have seen them all. How I loved them... I made them a kingdom so they may never know war. So their children and their children's children may know peace. That was my heart's dearest wish."

"Perhaps that is why the gods brought you here," suggested Tsukiko. "You built peace once, perhaps they wish you to build it once more?"

"Perhaps," Sansa agreed, "but the circumstances are very different. Westeros prayed for peace. This land hungers for war."

"Because it is young and it knows no better," Tsukiko said gently. "What it needs is someone to help it learn."

"I won't say I won't try," Sansa said slowly, "because I will. But I doubt any will listen."

"For you to try is all we can ask," Tsukiko said.

~

To her dismay, Sansa found returning to home just as distasteful an experience as being summoned to the spirit world. She appeared back in Inari-sama's shrine with a soft groan and had to take a few moments to let the sickness settle before she could open her eyes and shift from her position, knelt on the floor of the shrine.

To her chagrin, when she could focus on her surroundings she noticed there were markings on the wood below her where she'd used the summoning jutsu, almost like a seal. Cursing quietly at how she'd defiled the shrine they'd spent so long restoring, she hastily went to fetch the cleaning supplies they'd kept stored in the shrine and spent the next ten minutes scrubbing the floor clean. When she was finally satisfied, she returned the cleaning supplies and made to leave the shrine only to discover, much to her dismay, it was later then she'd thought. Tsukiko had assured her that time ran differently in the spirit realm, but the sun had still already begun its descent and Sansa hastened on her way, wishing to reach the orphanage before darkness fell.

The streets of Konoha were different at dusk. The merchants had packed up their wares and instead the bars and restaurants were packed with raucous shinobi and civilians. Sansa preferred not to be around any adults whose rationality had been affected by drink, not when she was well aware of the danger it put her in, which was why she avoided being out of the orphanage after nightfall. Keeping to the shadows, thankful for once for the ANBU shadow she could feel tailing her, Sansa crept through the quieter side-streets of the village, choosing the longer, more out of the way routes she only knew through her flights as a bird. It took her nearly twice as much time as it should but she managed to avoid running into any drunk Konoha citizens, which she considered a victory.

Kanna was waiting for her inside the orphanage, her face tight with anxiety. "Oh, thank Inari-sama!" She breathed, scooping Sansa up into her arms. "I was so worried 'bout ya, ya li'l idiot!"

"I lost track of the time," Sansa admitted and Kanna huffed.

"Yer an idiot," she said again. "A clever one, yeah, bu' an idiot."

Sansa didn't fight the older girl as she bustled Sansa off to the showers, muttering about how dirty Sansa had managed to get. "An' yer hair! Ya usually keep it so pretty!" Kanna exclaimed, sounding bewildered. Sansa took care to keep the Academy book hidden as she obediently stripped off her dress and small-clothes as instructed, combing her fingers through what was left of her braids. Kanna then gently pushed Sansa under the lukewarm spray of water, muttering under her breath as she tipped a handful of sharply-scented soap on the red tresses and started lathering.

Kanna didn't let her stay in the shower long, pulling her out and bundling her up in a towel. Sansa had moments to snatch up her dress and the prize hidden within it before Kanna was carrying her to their shared room, holding her tighter than usual. Sansa finally realised that Kanna must have been truly frightened for her, as darkness fell and Sansa failed to return.

"I apologise for worrying you," she said softly and Kanna held her tighter, as if afraid that should she let go, Sansa would disappear.

"Don' do it again', yeah?" She mumbled and Sansa leaned back in Kanna's arms, pressing her cheek over Kanna's heart, listening to the steady thump-thump.

"I promise," she said sleepily and Kanna kissed her forehead.

"Love ya, Ko-chan."

"Love you too, oneechan."

~

Sansa had to return Jiro's Academy textbook to him the following morning, but she was by no means about to stop learning about her chakra. She was almost desperately curious about this magic she had inside her, something so different from the life she had before. It was miraculous to her.

Oh, there had been magic in Westeros. With the Three-Eyed Raven in her brother's body she could never doubt such a thing, and Sansa had even performed such magic herself. When Jon had marched South for the Iron Throne with the Dragon Queen and what small number of Northerners had agreed to march with them, she had knelt before the heart-tree and sliced open her palm before pressing her hands together and bowing her head to pray for peace while her blood fed the pale roots of the weirwood and her dress soaked up the melting snow. When she lifted her head, there had only been a faint scar across her palm and a cluster of weirwood leaves had fallen to the ground beside her in a perfect circle; a crown for a Queen.

The magic of this world was very different. This magic relied on no gods; every human and some beasts carried within them the potential to wield such power, some to truly devastating effect. Sansa remembered the night of her rebirth; she remembered how fast her father and the masked man had moved, how her mother had conjured shining chains from nothing, how mighty Kurama had been. She remembered and she knew that if she wanted to survive in this world, she needed to know how to use her chakra. Preferably without having to sign her life over to a village she hated.

Once she'd finished the sewing the matron assigned her for the day, her mind focused on chakra the entire time, she feigned an illness and curled up in the room she shared with Kanna and Naruto, retreating back into the mind-scape she shared with Kurama. After being alive for so long, Kurama must know more about the true intricacies of the very essence of the world than the violence the shinobi used it for, she thought.

"Surely," she exclaimed passionately to the Kitsune, "surely its purpose could not have been to fight and kill! It's so beautiful, I don't understand why shinobi would pervert it and turn it into something so– so ugly."

Kurama was quiet for a long time before sighing. "Yes," they mused. "Yes, it is beautiful, isn't it?" They sighed again. "Well, go on, then. Let's see it."

"Pardon?" she asked, not quite understanding. She had the feeling Kurama was trying not to roll their eyes.

"Your chakra," they said slowly, like she was an idiot– and perhaps she was, she thought with a blush. "Let me see it."

Well, Sansa wasn't about to turn down such an invitation. Beaming, she reached for the ice-cold ocean under her skin, bringing its tides to the surface, waves lapping through her veins, currents twisting through her bones. Something sparked beneath her feet and Sansa glanced down and gasped. Where her feet had sunk into the fluffy snow, the ground beneath her had lit up brilliant blue, the snow around her rapidly melting to reveal–

"A seal," she breathed. Except it wasn't just a seal. Sansa watched breathlessly as the glowing lines curled outwards, gasping in delight at the sight, eagerly following how the elaborate seals fanned out across her mind-scape like delicate lace, curling and twirling as the 'threads' looped and interlaced. "Oh," she breathed, looking around at the complex seals in wonder, "Oh, they're beautiful."

"They're certainly... something," Kurama said disdainfully.

"Did Minato do all this?" she asked, astounded and Kurama snorted.

"Of course not," they said. "This is Mito's work."

"Mito's?" Sansa asked, equal parts thrilled and confused.

"I told you," Kurama said, impatient. "She created this mind-scape, using chakra, blood and seals to tie it to her bloodline. Seals do more than just affect reality, they create reality, and Mito was one of the best sealing mistresses the Elemental Nations has ever and will ever see."

There was a reluctant admiration in Kurama's voice that Sansa carefully didn't call them out on, not when she could so easily read their agitation. Instead, she focused on the seals, admiring how they surrounded her, softly glowing. And then, suddenly, she frowned. There was something very familiar about one of the seals. 

"I know that seal," she said, which had Kurama look over at her. "I recognise it from somewhere... where do I know it?" It took her a moment to remember. "The dream," she realised. "The one Inari-sama keeps sending me– Mito wore that seal on her hair-pins"

"Oh?" Kurama asked, interested.

"It's the same one," Sansa said, "I'm sure of it. That can't be a coincidence, can it?"

"I sincerely doubt it," Kurama said, finally looking interested. "You should try channeling your chakra into it."

"That sounds... ill-advised," Sansa said carefully. Activating a mysterious, unknown seal in her mind-scape sounded utterly foolish at best and actively suicidal at worst.

"You're the one who's convinced Inari is sending you those dreams for a reason," Kurama pointed out. "What if this is the reason?"

It was... difficult to argue with that logic. Sansa swallowed nervously.

"Do you... do you really think so?" she asked hesitantly.

"I think I want to be free," Kurama said, fiery eyes meeting hers, "and I can't be free if you die and Konoha seals me inside another Sacrifice."

"Okay," Sansa whispered, before steeling herself. "Okay," she repeated, louder and firmer. Stepping over to the seal, she reached for her chakra again, twisting the ocean currents into eddies that swirled under the skin of her palm. Taking a final deep breath, she knelt down, pressed her palm against Mito's seal, and pushed.

Immediately, Sansa felt the world around her twist; she cried out as the mind-scape rippled, the edges tearing and fraying, shaping into a vortex, a whirlpool, and she staggered, stumbling backwards and into one of the weirwood trees. She fell to the ground and clung to the roots with desperate fingers as the seal glowed a brighter and brighter blue until she had to look away and close her eyes, lest she risk being blinded.

And then, just as suddenly, everything went still and dark.

Breath ragged in her chest, Sansa dared to open her eyes to slits and look back. Then, she gasped. Because standing over the seal, porcelain-fair with her red hair bound in twin buns and a sad look on her face, was Uzumaki Mito.

Chapter Text

SIXTEEN:

Kurama reacted first between them, letting loose a terrible snarl from between jagged, crimson-dripping fangs at the woman who had appeared in the mindscape. They slammed their body at the barrier of weirwood trees, causing the entire ring of trees to shudder. “You!” They snarled, and the sound was so loud it rumbled around the entire mindscape, causing Sansa’s teeth to rattle. Uzumaki Mito watched Kurama with a sad, weary look on her beautiful face before turning to Sansa.

“You must be an Uzumaki,” she murmured. “That shade of hair is quite unmistakable. Are you Kushina’s daughter, by chance?”

“I am,” Sansa said, as she managed to pull herself back to her feet then took a chance by reaching through the branches of the weirwood to brush her hand against Kurama’s fur. The fur felt exactly as Kurama’s chakra did; like hot, crackling flames, licking at her hand in little simmers, but without the burn. Kurama stilled at her touch and ceased their violent efforts at breaking through the branches, much to Sansa’s relief. Instead, they stayed very still and silent, slit eyes fixed with deadly intent on Mito.

On Mito’s part, she was watching Sansa with a look of badly hidden alarm on her face, appearing as if she dearly wished to tear Sansa away from Kurama and to safety. Sansa kept her own face serene, kept her hand in Kurama’s fur, determined to show a united front between the pair of them that seemed to soothe Kurama more than any words could. When Mito dipped her chin slightly, Sansa knew she’d understood the silent message.

“My name is Uzumaki Fuyuko,” Sansa introduced herself with a bow, which Mito returned.

“I am Uzumaki Mito. You appear quite young, Fuyuko-chan,” Mito said softly.

“And you appear quite alive, for someone who should be quite dead,” Sansa replied. Mito’s mouth curved into a ghost of a smile.

“I am quite dead, I’m afraid. But I made a vow before the gods, before the time of my death. It was a vow I intended fulfilled and when I could not within my lifetime, I ensured that I left behind the means to aid my descendants in achieving what I could not in theirs.” She gestured to herself. “I am a chakra imprint,” she explained. “Before I died, I sealed a part of myself into this mindscape and tied the seals of the chakra imprint and the mindscape both to my bloodline.”

“So even dead, you exist to make my existence a misery!” Kurama broke their silence to snarl furiously, tails thrashing about behind them, and Mito sighed.

“I can understand why you would think that,” she said quietly.

“So you exist only within this mindscape?” Sansa cut in before Kurama could continue.

“Correct,” Mito nodded.

“And you will only appear when I activate the seal from your hair-pins?” She asked. Mito frowned.

“You don’t understand the seal?” she asked. Sansa blinked.

“No,” she admitted. “I only recognised it because of the dreams Inari-sama kept sending me.”

Mito’s eyes widened in alarm. “Activating seals in your mind without knowledge of what they are or what they may do is very dangerous,” she said urgently. “Surely Kushina has taught you that by now!”

Sansa inwardly flinched; to be the bearer of bad news was a task that brought no joy– not to her, or to the one she must give the news. “Kushina died on the day of my birth,” she said quietly and Mito inhaled sharply, the pain sharp and poignant on her lovely face. “My twin brother and I live in an orphanage. The only reason I know Kushina is my mother is because I am a reborn soul and despite my apparent young age, my mind is that of a woman grown.”

“You do not speak as a child as young as you appear,” Mito admitted shakily, looking very much like she wished to sit before visibly steeling her spine, “but there have been prodigies before. I assumed…” She let her head fall forwards slightly, her beautiful face etched in true grief. “Oh Kushina,” she murmured. “She had such hopes and dreams… she was torn away from her home so young, but she was so brave. So, so brave. She had such spirit in her, such love in her heart… she was a true Princess of the Whirlpools; she had oceans in her veins, hurricanes in her bones and eddies in her heart. I cried for days when I learned she was to be trained as a kunoichi– I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less for her, except perhaps for her to carry my burden.”

“A burden you chose!” Kurama roared, and Sansa’s hand was dislodged as they threw themselves at the branches again, roaring in wordless, impotent fury at their inability to get through, to get to Mito. Sansa wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen Kurama this angry and it shook her, down to her bones. She wanted to soothe them and she wanted to soothe Mito too, who had flinched into herself, suddenly looking startlingly young and vulnerable. How old had Mito been, Sansa suddenly wondered, when she had sealed Kurama? If she had lived until Kurama was sealed into Kushina, she must have been young…

“It was a burden I chose,” Mito said suddenly. “I took the old stories of my people, our old legends of warning, and I used them to bind a free being against their will. I know my words mean little to you, Kyuubi, but it was never my intention to keep you sealed and it was never my intention for your brothers and sisters to be sealed. I only wished to stop your rampage that day and to seal you was the only way I knew how. I truly intended to free you after Madara was defeated and it was possible to free you without dying myself.”

Kurama snarled, a harsh, guttural sound, and Sansa flinched at the wave of scouring, acidic chakra that flooded the mindscape in their rage, like a Dornish sandstorm flaying her skin. Her breath was tight in her chest at the sheer malice that had flooded the mindscape and she feared that it may have leaked beyond the mindscape, to the outer world, and what the consequences of that may be.

“Liar!” Kurama spat, raking vicious claws against the branches keeping them caged. “Liar!”

Mito, Sansa was impressed to see, managed not to stumble at the onslaught, instead keeping her head held high. “I am not lying,” she said, her voice only shaking slightly. “But the original seal was basic and even after Madara’s defeat, to remove you would have been to kill me. And to kill me, would have been to lose Hashirama his wife.”

And, abruptly, Sansa understood.

After all, she had been a wife too. She knew what that meant, for a woman.

“What was the price,” she asked quietly, “of your marriage? What did your body buy from your husband?”

Blessedly, Kurama went silent to listen as Mito smiled the bitter smile of a bartered woman. “I was never a kunoichi, no matter the lies they wrote into history,” she said. “But I was the princess of an island nation.”

“Uzushio,” murmured Sansa.

“Uzushio,” Mito agreed, a soft, wistful look on her lovely face. “We didn’t have a full shinobi force, not in the way of the other clans, but we did have our own defences. Uzushio was protected and we remained untouched during what would come to be known as the Warring Clans Era. But then, the Senju and the Uchiha formed an alliance. And the other clans started flocking together, forming powerful military dictatorships across the Elemental Nations. We knew that we could remain isolated no longer, not against such force as one of these new Hidden Villages. But we didn’t wish to leave our island.”

“You needed an alliance with one of the villages,” Sansa realised, before correcting herself. “No, not one of the villages– not if you wanted to be untouchable. You needed the first village. The strongest village.”

“Yes,” Mito said, a weary look flickering over her face. “Konohagakure. The village hidden in the leaves. It helped that we already had ties with the Senju, but we needed a formal alliance with the village they had helped found.”

“And so you were bartered for your island’s protection. A princess for them, in exchange for an alliance to make Uzushio an unattractive target to the other villages.” Sansa said.

Mito nodded tightly. “I could not die to free the Kyuubi,” she said. “Because my life did not belong to me; it was the price my island paid Konoha for her protection. And when my husband captured the other tailed beasts and demanded I seal them, all in the name of his precious peace, I put my people first and did as he bid. Then later, once I had made a more stable seal, when I could have survived releasing the Kyuubi, I could not because to free the Kyuubi would be to upset the fragile balance of power between the Hidden Villages and endanger Uzushio by making Konoha appear weak. So again, I put my people first.” She looked up at Kurama, her face defiant. “I do not regret it,” she told them. “I am sorry that you and your kin paid the price for my actions, but I had to do whatever was in my power to protect my people.”

Sansa’s heart ached for the woman, because she understood that, understood doing whatever it took for her people, for the North. She remembered the honeyed words and sweet kisses she’d used to lure Jon from his Dragon Queen to her bed, how wretched she’d found his touch, her brother’s touch, no matter that he was her cousin in truth, but how she’d endured it; for her people, for the North and their independence. She remembered how it felt, when her body was the tool she must use to gain influence, to gain alliances, how violated she felt, how wretched.

But whatever was within her power to protect her people, Sansa had done. She had suffered for those she had loved, just as Mito had.

Just as women did.

Kurama bared their teeth at Mito, unmoved as their eyes flashing with malevolence. “And yet,” they said mockingly, “for all your sacrifices,” here, their voice dripped with disdain, “just how did Konoha honour their promises? Just how well did they protect your precious Uzushio?”

Mito’s winter-rose blue eyes suddenly flashed with rage. “They did not keep their word!” She hissed. “I did my duty! I married Hashirama, I bore him three sons and watched them all die for Konoha, I worked to keep his village running as he pined endlessly after a bitter madman while I forewent the one I could have loved! I even allowed Konoha to kill me, to tear the Kyuubi from me and seal it into my young niece so they could forge her into their weapon! All that I did for them, for Uzushio, and yet when Uzushio was attacked, when my people were slaughtered, where was Konoha!?”

Mito shook her head, her face stained red with her rage. “I can never forgive them. Never. They were lucky I was old and Kushina was vulnerable when Uzushio fell. Kiri and Iwa were hunting down the survivors, and I couldn’t protect her. I needed Konoha to remain standing for her sake, and perhaps in part for the one I could have loved. But Konoha failed even in that and now my niece is dead, Uzushio is dead, and Konoha lives on.”

Even Kurama was silent in the face of the terrible grief and rage on Mito’s face; Sansa could see the edge of satisfaction in their expression, but it was bittersweet– a pyrrhic victory.

Sansa finally stepped forward, stepped to Mito and reached out, reached up for Mito’s hands. They were warm in hers.

“Teach me sealing,” Sansa said, “teach me sealing so I can learn how to free Kurama and we will leave this village and we will rebuild Uzushio. I know how to rebuild a home from ruins. I know how to heal a broken people from the scars of war. Teach me sealing so no Uzumaki ever has to set foot in this cursed village again.”

“Oh little sea-star,” Mito said, and there were tears in her eyes but she still smiled as if her heart was breaking and healing all at once. “You had me convinced at ‘teach me sealing’.”

Sansa smiled softly at her. “Thank you,” she said. “But I must talk with Kurama now.”

Brief confusion flickered over Mito’s face before comprehension dawned, her eyes darting over to Kurama then back to Sansa. “I will return to the seal and give you privacy,” Mito said, “you know how to summon me when you are ready to begin your lessons.”

“Thank you, Mito-obasan,” Sansa said softly and Mito’s whole face lit up with a heartbroken, grief-stricken joy.

Kurama waited until Mito touched the seal and disappeared in a brief flare of blue, so bright it had Sansa blinking spots from her eyes, before growling. “I don’t like it!” They spat. “I don’t like her! Working with her is a terrible idea!”

“Possibly,” Sansa admitted. “But mutual enemies can make for strange bedfellows. And sometimes… sometimes those we once hated, the ones we once saw as monsters… sometimes when we look back, they’re not always so monstrous as we once believed.”

Sansa had spent years hating Cersei with a passion, but hate and love could be very similar and Cersei had been the closest she had had to a mother for so very long. And as she’d grown older, she had begun to realise just how little power the all-powerful Cersei of her childhood really had and how terrified the woman really was, behind that beautiful, impassive face, how she had suffered at the hands of men who saw her only value in her womb and the flesh between her legs, not her clever mind and her silver tongue.

“There was a woman, back in my world,” Sansa said quietly, “I was her son’s prisoner for years. They were not… kind years. And she was not a kind woman. I thought I’d hate her forever, my Golden Queen. But then the Dragon Queen came along, came and invaded my home and thought to make me kneel and be glad for it. A woman who thought to take from me what I had suffered for, what my brother had died for, what so many of my people had died for.

“And my Golden Queen, she wrote to me. Her children were all dead and she had no illusions as to her chances of victory when the Dragon Queen came for her. She would not go down without a fight, of course not– she was a lioness, the truest lioness of her House, and she would fight to the bitter end. But she wished for her name to be remembered, she wished to leave a legacy. And with her children dead, I was all she had left. The daughter she had tormented as much as she had raised. Who she had hated as much as I had hated her, but still protected when she could from her son’s sadism.

“Oh, I won’t defend her. She was a wicked person, but I don’t believe she ever really had a chance. Not growing up without a mother and with a father like Tywin before being sold off to a brute like Robert, who beat her, openly dishonoured their marriage bed, making a mockery of her, and was in love with a dead woman who had never loved him in the first place. Some people bend under such pressure without breaking and others shatter into so much broken glass that they cut any who try to help them pick up their pieces.

“My Golden Queen, she was all sharp edges and broken glass. Even in her last letter. But it was honest, that way. And she told me so many things, so many secrets. If she couldn’t win, she wanted to ensure she would be victorious through her legacy– through me. She helped me in my victory over the Dragon Queen, in the end. My enemy helped me build peace, for my children.

“Mutual enemies make for strange bedfellows, Kurama. You don’t have to like them. You can hate them, you can even want them dead. I certainly never wanted to see my Golden Queen again. If I ever saw her in person, I’d just as likely attempt to commit grievous harm upon her as I would greet her, but she helped me form the foundations of something wonderful. Mito can help us do the same. Uzushio can become a sanctuary for us both, if we let it. Somewhere safe, where we’re free.”

Kurama had stayed quiet during her impassioned plea and when she finally fell silent they settled down with a sigh, a gust of hot Dornish wind. “I will not be happy about it,” they warned.

“That is, of course, entirely understandable,” Sansa agreed.

“And I will not forgive her,” they added.

“Which nobody would expect of you,” she said, and Kurama sighed again.

“I will work with her,” they said reluctantly. “And I will not try to eat her.”

Sansa blinked. She hadn’t even realised that was a possibility. “That’s… good.” She said. “I’d really rather you didn’t eat her. That would be unfortunate.”

Kurama snorted. “I’ve never liked seafood anyway.” They muttered. “Too salty.”   

Chapter Text

SEVENTEEN:

"Ko-ane! Ko-ane!" Naruto giggled. His cheeks were rosy with laughter and his blue eyes bright and sparkling as she showered his face with kisses.

Sansa adored her brother. At first, her affection for him had been born from Kushina's dying wish that her and Naruto protect and love each other, but it was impossible not to love Naruto. He shone so brightly the gods must surely have breathed star-fire into his bones when they created him. Sansa wasn't certain what role she would play in his life; presently, she hovered somewhere between mother and sister and perhaps when he got older it would lean more toward the latter, but she was unsure. She didn't particularly mind, either way; she just knew that she loved him, like a wolf loved the moon, and she always would. He brought a lightness to her life that only her children had before.

After her meeting with her ancestor, Uzumaki Mito, and the conversation with Kurama that had followed, too many old memories had been lurking too close to the surface of her mind so Sansa had hunted down the bright sunshine of her life, needing that lightness to drive away the dark. Naruto had been overjoyed to see her and she'd felt awful about how neglected he must be feeling lately. He was used to spending all of his time with her and now she was spending her time sewing and learning to read and soon she'd be learning sealing too. 

But that was something to worry about later. Right now, she just wanted to enjoy spending time with her brother, playing all those games that her Septa and Lady-Mother would have been horrified beyond words to see Lady Sansa Stark play.

She cheekily tickled Naruto's belly and he let out a playful growl, taking an equally playful swipe at her with his little claws. Sansa ignored the slight sting, knowing her healing would take care of the scratches, and instead pounced, more than happy to play wrestling– one of Naruto's favourites and a game she'd been stern that he was only to play with her. They rolled around the yard together, each determined to pin the other. Sansa had the advantage of practicing with actual wolves while playing with Lady's litter-mates, but Naruto had the advantage of being bigger and slightly stronger.

Sansa prevailed in the end, pinning Naruto beneath her and nipping his throat gently to end the game. He nuzzled her, just like a real wolf pup, and they curled up together. It was beginning to get dark but Sansa wasn't worried. They were mostly safe in the backyard of the orphanage and it was the warmer part of the year. She and Naruto had spent more than one night curled up outside, under a tree with Kanna. Sometimes it was just nice to be outside, under the blanket of stars and the light of the moon.

"Ko-ane?" Naruto asked suddenly.

"Yes, little storm?" She asked. Since she'd found out that the kanji for Naruto's name spelled out maelstrom, 'little storm' had been her favourite name for her brother. It suited his chakra too; hers was an ocean, and his was a tempest.

"Are we gonna go ta the 'cademy?"

Sansa felt her whole body tense. "Who told you about the Academy?" She demanded, her panic like shards of ice scraping through her veins.

Naruto's big, innocent eyes blinked at her in confusion. "Lotsa people talk 'bout it," he told her.

"Lots of people talk about it, little prince." She corrected him absently even as her mind raced. She felt sick. The idea of Naruto attending the charnel house that was Konoha's Shinobi Academy had her lungs tightening in her chest and her breath was coming in short and wheezy gasps.

"Ko-ane!" Naruto sounded freaked out, his little hands clutching onto her own tiny ones, and Sansa had to force herself to slow her breathing. She desperately wanted to summon Lady but there was no privacy around them and she could sense their ANBU watchers close by, and that knowledge was enough to tighten her lungs again. "Ko-ane!" Naruto wailed, tears welling in his eyes, and Sansa buried her face in his golden hair, breathing in his familiar scent and letting it ground her until she could take a full breath again.

"I won' talk 'bout the 'cademy no more," Naruto promised her, sniffling, and Sansa just held him tighter, grief and despair surging in her heart.

"Oh my little storm," she whispered, "if only I could protect you forever." She could already see it, could already imagine Konoha taking and taking and taking from her bright little brother, stripping him of his innocence, his joy, his childhood, until there was nothing left but pain and bitterness and weariness; until he was left just like her.

"They'll never let us go," she told Kurama wretchedly that night, and they let out a harsh laugh in response.

"Of course not," they said, lips pulled back in a terrible, torturous rictus of a smile and she could feel their rising bloodlust. "Not unless we make them."

Uzumaki Mito's smile was just as bloodthirsty as Kurama's, though Sansa didn't think either would appreciate the comparison.

"Do you know why Kiri and Iwa destroyed Uzushio?" she asked. "We weren't a major Hidden Village. We weren't even a proper shinobi village– but our people had such skill with seals that it terrified them, so much so that they slaughtered us and then they hunted down the survivors and slaughtered them too. And they have likely succeeded in their intention– I died before I could pass on our secrets to Kushina and I know not if any Uzushio seal masters or mistresses survived to pass down our secrets to Uzushio descendants."

"But knowledge of sealing still exists," Sansa pointed out, "Minato was said to be a sealing genius, even if he wasn't an Uzushio seal-master."

"Maybe he was," Mito said dismissively, "but do you know the difference between an ordinary seal-master and an Uzushio seal-master?" Here, she smiled and held up her hand. Sansa could feel, rather than see, how Mito's chakra moved under her skin, before she turned and pressed her hand against the trunk of the nearest weirwood. Sansa's eyes widened as a seal, blood-red and brilliant, blazed into the pale trunk under Mito's palm.

"An Uzushio seal-master," Mito said, bright-eyed and fervent, "has no need for ink or brushes or even blood– all an Uzushio seal-master needs is the chakra under their skin. This is what I will teach you. This is the legacy of our people. This is the legacy of Uzushio."

Sansa knew the weight of a legacy and it was a weight she carried gladly. This she told Mito, who smiled.

"It will be hard work," she warned, "but I know you will be a dedicated student. And one day, Fuyuko– one day you and Naruto will know freedom. One day you will know Uzushio."

~

Mito was right about it being hard work. The very first lesson Sansa had been taught was about tenketsu points and it had set the tone for the lessons that had followed. “Tenketsu points are where chakra can be expelled from your body,” Mito had explained. “Your palms have two of the main tenketsu points of the body. Another is found on the forehead,” she'd gestured to the purple rhombus on her own forehead. "They can be found throughout the entire body, however most use only the points in their hands and feet.” 

Mito had then smiled. “But Uzushio seal masters are not most. We are not the Hyuuga, able to map out the tenketsu points of the body, but we don’t need to be. We have always been a clan known for our sensors, and you are no exception. There are three hundred and sixty-one tenketsu points from which your body can expel chakra, Fuyuko-chan. I want you to find them all.”

It had been Sansa's first assignment from Mito, but not her only one. It had taken her nearly two months to find each tenketsu point and another two months to be able to expel chakra from each point. During that time she'd also spent hours each night in her mindscape learning about different chakra types– elemental, natural, yin and yang– as well as sealing theory and common sealing components and symbols, with Mito testing her relentlessly. 

There was no rest during the day either. As well as any assignments from Mito, such as the one locating tenketsu points, Sansa had to practice circulating her chakra around her body and shaping it under her skin, which was at least something she could do as she was sewing– Mito even said it was good practice to be able to focus enough to manipulate her chakra when her hands were busy elsewise.

Sansa was exhausted but she persisted despite herself. She was learning so much and each time Mito smiled, she knew she was one step closer to being able to free Kurama from their prison. She could see the careful hope in Kurama’s eyes as she soaked in everything Mito was teaching her; sealing came naturally to her, it was obvious to all three of them. It was in her blood and Sansa was determined that when the time came, she would pass on this knowledge to Naruto too. This was the legacy of their people and it filled Sansa with pride. 

Along with Sansa's blossoming sealing abilities, another change in their lives as her and Naruto's fourth birthday crept closer was Sansa learning how to sneak out of the orphanage without their ANBU watchers knowing. 

Practicing manipulating her chakra had increased Sansa's ability to read the flickering in the chakra of the ANBU watchers so she could tell when they weren't paying attention and slip away, sometimes taking Naruto with her. She'd bring scarves to cover their bright hair and rub dirt on their cheeks to hide the whisker-marks, so in their ragged, second-hand clothes and old sandals they just appeared to be another pair of kids running wild and underfoot around Konoha.

She half-wondered if this was how Arya had felt when she'd shed her dresses for tunics and breeches and had her long hair hacked off; no longer Lady Arya Stark, just Arry. It was a strange, foreign feeling to Sansa, to be so invisible; even as Uzumaki Fuyuko she was stared at, albeit not in a friendly manner or in the awed way people had stared at Queen Sansa Stark, like she was a goddess descended from the heavens above and cloaked in mortal flesh. It was disturbing and freeing all at once; like the dizzying sensation of standing at the edge of a great height, and Sansa wasn't at all certain if she liked it or not.

Naruto, though– Naruto loved it. And that was good enough for her. Even if they had to stay closer to the rougher parts of Konoha, where a couple of dirty children alone on the street wouldn't get a second look, to see Naruto's bright grin and hear his laughter as they played tag and chased cats and stole fruit from merchants was worth paying a small toll to the gangs of street kids who occasionally cornered them in an alley and loomed threateningly over them until Sansa paid a sum in return for being allowed to remain on their territory.

They'd gotten some considering looks from some of the older kids a few times, but no offers to join up as of yet, which Sansa was relieved by. It would have been difficult to figure out how to politely say no and she had higher aspirations for her brother and herself then joining a street gang, though she had no issues with doing business with them.

Sansa knew the importance of those easily overlooked– she had learned that lesson from Varys and his little birds and later from Arya when she had taken over as Sansa's Mistress of Whispers with her little strays. So much useful information had been gathered through those children and the whores who everybody overlooked but were cleverer by half than most of the idiots doing the overlooking.

It was why, when Naruto wasn't with her, she took a month's worth of her allowance with her, slipping it into a pocket she'd sewn onto the inside of her dress just for the occasion, wound a grey scarf around her bright hair and slipped out of the orphanage when the ANBU watcher's attention was elsewhere. She made her way through the winding streets of Konoha, feeling carefully for the presence of any ANBU watchers as she made her way deeper into the rougher parts of Konoha until she'd entered the Yūkaku* itself, somewhere she'd always strictly avoided when with Naruto.

When Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara had founded Konoha, they issued laws restricting prostitution to certain areas on the outskirts of the village, an area that became known as the Yūkaku– Konoha's pleasure quarters. It was where the prostitutes and courtesans worked, where the yakuza were the law, where the street kids ran, and where to go if you had money and needed information.

There had been a similar 'floating world', as some referred to the Yūkaku, in Westeros. Her time spying as a little bird hadn't revealed who pulled the strings of Konoha's Yūkaku, or what their title was, but in Westeros the leader of the seedy underbelly of society had been known as the King of the Rogues.

It was a title spoken only half in jest, for he had had his court of thieves, whores, beggars and killers, just as she had had hers of royalty, nobles, and knights. Sansa had dealt with him as little as was possible, though she hated to admit it, she really did, but she'd liked the bastard. He was just so charming, like all silver-tongued charlatans– he could have sold water to a drowning man. They'd had an amicable relationship that had served them both well and it had taught her much of such culture– and it was with this knowledge that Sansa had used her warging abilities to carefully scout out a suitable person to approach.

Suzuki Tama was born to Suzuki Yuu, one of the workers at Madam Ai's Palace of Flowers. She was one of the many fatherless children born in the Yūkaku who would grow up and either join the yakuza or become prostitutes like their mothers. Tama was a handful of years older than Sansa's current body and she already wore those years in the hardness of her face and the ice in her dark eyes.

The reason Sansa had chosen Tama was due to the girl's connections, both to the other bastard children of the Yūkaku, as Madam Ai's was one of the largest and most popular brothels, and because at eight namedays she was already a runner for the yakuza.

Sansa approached her on quiet feet and observed the exact moment when Tama registered her presence, hand twitching to her pocket, likely for a weapon. "Excuse me, nee-san," she said politely, "I've heard you're the one to approach if one needs a favour."

Tama glared down at her, dislike sharp on her young face. "Fuck off!" She spat.

"For a price, of course," Sansa tacked on calmly.

"...shoulda lead wiv tha', fuckn' idiot," Tama snapped and Sansa bowed.

"Apologies," she said. "I don't have much, I'm afraid. But I'm not asking for much either– just that you ask your friends to keep their eyes open for an ANBU wearing a dog mask. I don't need him followed, just a sighting and then someone to show me to that location– I can be found at Konoha's orphanage."

"No shit?" Tama said, surprised, and Sansa could immediately see how the girl's thin shoulders eased slightly. "Ya speak like a fuckn' noble, not a fuckn' orphan."

"Proper diction is important," Sansa said dryly, leaning into Tama as if she was hugging the older girl. Tama 'hugged' her back and Sansa could feel the older girl slip her hand into the pocket Sansa had sewn inside her dress and take the payment. When Tama pulled back, Sansa couldn't even see where she'd disappeared Sansa's hard-earned money– she could only hope that the effort would pay off. If Tama could get her the start of a scent trail, then she and Lady would be able to track it back to Inu. To Kakashi.

"Ninja are bad business, kid– don' go tanglin' wiv shit tha'll get ya face down in a ditch," Tama warned and Sansa nodded.

"I know," she said, "and I don't want anyone else getting hurt either. I only want to know if someone happens to spot him by chance, that's all."

Tama nodded slowly. "I'll put th' word out," she decided. "Ain't gonna promise anythin', but I'll put th' word out."

"Thank you," Sansa breathed, bowing again. Tama looked down at her, a strange look in her pale eyes.

"Yer a weird one, ain'tcha?" she muttered. "Scram, kid."

Sansa 'scrammed'.

~

The day after her meeting with Tama, Sansa summoned Lady to Konoha for the first time. She chose a back alley, behind a dumpster, which wasn't the most auspicious of places but it was hidden and Naruto was all but jumping up and down in his eagerness to meet a new friend after they'd escaped from their ANBU watchers again.

When Lady appeared in a delicate plume of smoke Naruto's eyes went wide and he clapped his hands together in excitement.

"Foxy!" He exclaimed and Lady looked indignant.

"I'm not a fox!" She complained and Sansa laughed, understanding why Naruto may have gotten them confused– the only other four-legged animal he'd seen, other than his Inu toy, were the foxes at the shrine. She wondered if Lady would have been more or less insulted to have been called a dog instead.

"Close, little storm, but not quite," Sansa gently corrected Naruto before Lady could make a fuss, "Lady is a wolf– but that's our special secret. If anyone asks, she's just a stray dog who sometimes follows us around, okay?"

Naruto's eyes widened in delight as he nodded hurriedly. "Shh!" He said, putting his finger up against his lips and she laughed.

"That's right, shh!" She agreed. "Do you want to pat her? She's really soft."

"I am," Lady promised. "And look at my pretty ribbon!" She preened, bowing her neck to show Naruto the ribbon that Sansa had woven into the fur of her ruff.

"Pretty!" Naruto gasped, reaching out to pat her. "Soft!" He added, leaning forward to rub his cheek against her muzzle. "Pack?" He asked innocently, looking between her and Sansa with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Yes," Sansa agreed, "Lady is pack."

Naruto beamed, and it was like looking at sunshine. Even Lady looked slightly stunned before the wolf visibly melted, nuzzling Naruto and rubbing her muzzle against his cheek. It made Sansa's heart swell with love, to see her two precious ones getting along, both accepting the other without question and with such open hearts.

"Come on," Sansa said when they both finally turned to her, holding her hand out to Naruto, "let's go show Lady around Konoha."

"Yes!" Naruto cheered, bouncing over to her and eagerly grabbing onto her hand, excited to show his new friend around.

They did get a few strange, wary looks as they gave her the tour, but Lady was still just small enough to be mistaken for a dog, just as Sansa had hoped she would be. Still, Sansa kept them out of the more crowded areas, instead showing Lady the quieter parts of Konoha– namely the memorial stone, the Hokage mountain and their shrine.

"Smells like foxes," was Lady's opinion as they stopped outside the shrine and Sansa laughed.

"I'm not surprised," she said, bowing in the direction of the shrine and sending a prayer of thanks to Inari-sama for helping her find Mito. "What do you think of Konoha?" She asked.

"...Konoha makes you sad," Lady said softly and Naruto whined, leaning into her. Sansa let out a shaky breath, holding onto both of them.

"Yes," she admitted, "it does. But do you know what doesn't? You, Naruto. And you, Lady. And Kanna-neesan, of course, and Inu. Even Kazumi-obaasan isn't too bad."

Naruto wrinkled his nose. "Smells like cats," he complained and Sansa laughed at Naruto's accurate description of the orphanage's matron.

"She does, doesn't she?" she agreed, before sighing softly. "I’ve learned that home isn’t always a place,” she murmured. “Sometimes... sometimes home is those you love. And you are both my home. And one day... one day, we will build ourselves a village. Together."

Until then, with her pack by her side, Sansa found herself startlingly... content. 

~

~

*In 1617 Japan, the Tokugawa Shogunate issued an order restricting prostitution to certain areas on the outskirts of cities, known as yūkaku (pleasure quarters)

Chapter Text

EIGHTEEN:

On the eve of Sansa and Naruto’s fourth nameday, she, Kanna and Naruto were once again collected by the ANBU and taken to the Hokage Tower, though at least this time they were prepared– Sansa had even taken the time to pack the nameday presents she’d prepared for Naruto and Kanna.

At the start of the previous month she’d requested of the orphanage matron Kazumi that, in place of her usual allowance, she be given thread, ribbons and beads. She had then spent what little spare time she had sewing her gifts for Naruto and Kanna– it may not have been Kanna’s nameday but Sansa couldn’t help but be acutely aware that it was the anniversary of the death of Kanna’s mother. While Kanna had never let that stop her celebrating the twins’ birthday, Sansa wanted to make some sort of gesture to show Kanna that her efforts were acknowledged, that they were appreciated. She wanted to show Kanna that she was loved.

For Naruto, Sansa had selected a much larger grey t-shirt she’d found amongst the clothes donated to the orphanage which were sent to be mended before being redistributed amongst the orphans. She bleached the shirt white, washed it in sweet-smelling herbs then neatly cut the fabric and stitched it into a child-sized tunic. On the front of the tunic she stitched a howling grey direwolf poised in mid-leap, using gleaming pale-blue beads as eyes. The direwolf’s back paws and tail were halfway-merged into a finely stitched Uzushio swirl, making it appear both as if the wolf and swirl were one and that the wolf was leaping from the swirl.

For Kanna, Sansa had found a knee-length white dress and deep red skirt made of a velvety material amongst the donated clothes. She took the white dress in at the waist, trimming the neckline to a more flattering cut and tightening the bodice, before cutting the skirt up and using the fabric to sew red velvet roses which she attached along the neckline of the white dress. With a green thread, she then embroidered curling vines across the bodice and hems of the dress. And if some of those vines discretely curled in a way that resembled an Uzushio swirl, well, Sansa never claimed she wasn’t possessive of those she loved.

Kazumi, the only one to see the finished projects before Sansa had carefully wrapped them in brown paper that the matron generously provided, had been very impressed by Sansa’s handiwork. She’d asked if she could borrow them for a day, to show a friend, and Sansa had hesitantly agreed, nervous but trusting that Kazumi would do no harm to the tunic and dress– and she hadn’t, though she had returned with a very thoughtful look upon her face.

The looks of delight on Kanna and Naruto’s faces when they opened their presents was well worth the effort she had placed into the projects. “Oh, Ko-chan!” Kanna gasped, holding up the rose dress against her body and looking down at herself in delight. “Didja make this?”

Meanwhile, Naruto pointed excitedly at the wolf on his tunic and exclaimed, “Lady!”

“Try them on,” Sansa urged, and Kanna, with an ease that came from sharing a small room for three years, shed her t-shirt and skirt, standing in just her smallclothes before carefully slipping into the dress as Sansa helped Naruto into his tunic.

Naruto looked adorable, much to Sansa’s delight. His faded green shorts didn’t really match and she made note to sew him a pair of plain brown or black breeches, but the tunic fit well and she was pleased that she hadn’t lost her touch with taking measurements by sight alone. Naruto kept touching the leaping wolf on his belly with a soft, amazed look on his face, and Sansa felt a warm, glowing feeling in her stomach at seeing how well her gift had been received.

Likewise, Kanna was almost in tears. The rose dress clung delicately to her, revealing the slim curves of her blossoming figure. Kanna was six and ten now, a young woman of marriageable age by Westerosi standards, and the dress made that clearer than the old, loose t-shirts and skirts Kanna usually wore ever did. She didn’t look like a child, she looked like a young woman of good standing.

“Let me do your hair,” Sansa coaxed, forcing Kanna to sit down and fetching her comb from the bag she had brought. Naruto sat and watched as she brushed through Kanna’s long, green hair before expertly twisting the strands into a coronet braid, crowning her even as soft waves flowed loose around her neck and shoulders, framing her face.

“There,” Sansa said, satisfied. “You look beautiful. You always do, of course, your heart is too beautiful for you to not shine, but a little bit of polish does not go amiss.”

“Yer amazin’,” Kanna said with a wet laugh, “I don’ think I ever wore somethin’ this nice ever.”

“A dress may be a creation of cloths and textiles and all manner of frills and frippery,” Sansa told her primly, “but a dress is also a Lady’s armour.”

Kanna looked at her with thoughtful eyes and Sansa couldn’t help but wonder what she saw when the older in body-but not in mind girl looked down at her. She wondered if Kanna saw the age in Sansa’s eyes, the decades she’d lived and the horrors she’d survived, and what she made of it. Kanna and Naruto were the only two she didn’t hide from; the ANBU watchers must have some idea, by now, that her speech was far more advanced than a regular child of four namedays, Kazumi too, but it was only Kanna who was aware of just how intelligent Sansa truly was.

But she had never said anything. She had never even hinted it, not to anyone. Sansa loved Naruto and Lady more than any other in this new world, but if there was another who came close, it was Kanna. Kanna, their sister in all but blood. Kanna, their pack.

“Ko-ane, do my hair too?” Naruto piped up suddenly, breaking the steady, contemplative gaze between the girl and the woman in a child’s body. Sansa couldn’t help her fond smile as she turned to Naruto

“Of course, my little storm,” she said, always willing to oblige her brother. Naruto’s hair brushed against his shoulders as he hated getting it cut and kicked up enough of a fuss that Kazumi rarely bothered to go through the ordeal of forcing him, so there was more enough hair for Sansa to weave a few tiny braids into his golden locks to make him happy.

“Now tha’ we’re all pretty,” Kanna announced once she’d finished, with a big grin on her face, “I reckon it’s time fer th’ party!”

“Party!” Naruto cheered, bouncing up and down and clapping and Sansa let herself be swept up in their excitement.

They’d been left out food again; there was inari which they made sure to set some aside, bowls of broth and noodles called ‘ramen’ that Naruto couldn’t get enough of, skewers with colourful balls called ‘dango’ that Kanna apparently adored, and these delightful rose-shaped confections called ‘nerikiri’ that melted in Sansa’s mouth.

“Ya both gettin’ so big,” Kanna said nostalgically as Naruto licked salty broth off his fingers. “Three years now I’ve ‘ad ya now! Can hardly believe it, yeah?”

“Believe it!” Naruto crowed and Kanna laughed, swooping forwards to scoop him into her arms. Naruto shrieked in delight as she stood and spun him around, and Sansa giggled at the sight they made together.

Eventually, they ended up in their usual curled up position on the sleeping mats, changed into their sleep-clothes. They were getting too big to both fit comfortably in Kanna’s arms, so Kanna would curl around Naruto, who would curl around Sansa, ensuring Naruto was in the most protected position.

“Dunno wot I’d do without ya both,” Kanna murmured.

“You’re not planning on going anywhere, are you?” Sansa asked, unable to help the sudden jolt of concern she felt.

“Nah,” Kanna said. “Jus’… I only got two years left, yeah? Then I age out.”

Sansa swallowed. That was right. Kanna was turning eighteen in two years, which meant she would no longer be eligible to stay at the orphanage.

“I’m seein’ some’un,” Kanna said suddenly, “’E’s th’ son of a baker. ‘E can get me a job, a proper, ‘onest, good payin’ one in Konoha…” she trailed off. “It was never my plan, ya know. Stayin’. When I aged out, I was always gonna leave. Git outta this shitty village. But then I got the pair of ya, an’ now… now I wanna leave, but I ain’t about to leave yeh both. So I’mma git this job, an’ in two years, I’ll have saved enough tha’ I can adopt ya. We’ll rent some place, it’ll be a shit heap, but we’ll be together, yeah?”

“You wanna adopt us?” Naruto asked, and Sansa could hear the tender hope in his voice. She didn’t even correct his diction, because her own heart was so full of love.

“I love my li’l pups,” Kanna said fiercely, hugging them both, and Sansa couldn’t help her tears, turning around so she could cling to Naruto and reach for Kanna and cling to her too.

“Yes,” she said, “yes. Please.”

Kanna smiled, wet-eyed and tremulous and so, so warm.

“Sing, Ko-ane?” Naruto asked with big, pleading blue eyes and a wobbly lip. Sansa smiled, leaning to kiss his forehead.

“Of course, little prince,” she murmured, before leaning back in Kanna’s warm arms and singing in her high, piping voice;

“This is the price of commanding–
You always stand alone,
Let no one near
To see the fear
Behind the mask, you've grown
This is the price of commanding–
That you watch your dearest die,
Sending women and men
To fight again,
And never tell them why
This is the price of commanding–
That mistakes are signed in red–
And you won’t pay
But others may,
And your best may wind up dead
This is the price of commanding–
All the dead that haunt your sleep
You hope they forgive
And so you live
With their memories buried deep.
This is the price of commanding–
That if you won’t, others will.
So take your post,
Salute each ghost–
You’ve a debt to them to fill
This is the price of commanding.”*

“Tha’s... tha’s deep, imouto,” Kanna said quietly.

“Heavy lies the head that wears the crown,” Sansa said quietly. “Great power requires great sacrifice.”

Naruto was a Prince of the Whirlpools; it was her duty to teach him, to train him as to what being a Prince meant. What being a leader meant. She’d been taught since she was a young child what it meant to be a noble lady, what her future duties would be– and yet, those who taught her had failed to teach her the most important lesson of all; there was a price of commanding. A cost to power. Sansa had paid dearly; she’d sent men to their deaths in battle, she’d ordered executions, and she’d used her body, her womb, as a way to gain blackmail and alliances. None of that had come freely; it had scarred her conscience, stained her soul, and all the suffering, all the deaths, that occurred due to her decisions, her own included, haunted her sleep still.

Yet, she did not regret them.

She made her choices and the consequences were hers to accept. She did not regret what she had done, despite how she knew some must view her actions. How traitorous, how power-hungry, they must have seen them.

One by one, Sansa had stolen the loyalty of the Kingdoms from Daenerys. The North, through her own rule. The Crownlands, through Torrhen. The Riverlands, through Uncle Edmure. The Vale, through her cousin Robin Arryn, who quite adored her. Dorne, through her marriage to Olyvar and birth to Raya. The Stormlands, through Arya and Gendry. The Westerlands, through Galladon, Brienne and Jaime’s son who had been raised in her court and was loyal to her. The Free Folk, through Tormund and her son, Robb.

Oh, and dear Yara, she could not forget dear Yara and her Iron Islands. It had taken a far more delicate touch to win her over then any of the men, but win her over Sansa had. Daenerys was raised to conquer, but Sansa? She had been raised to rule. She knew the Iron Islands, she had grown alongside its heir. The key to gaining Yara’s loyalty did not lie in men, or in armies, for what use were armies when bellies were empty and aching? When the islands yielded such scarce offerings to their people, with their barren soil and harsh lands?

Sansa had opened trade between the North and the Iron Islands and gently coaxed the Riverlands into doing the same, fostering an amicable relationship between them that Daenerys couldn’t hope to match, not when the Crownlands had no such goods they could offer the Iron Islands of such worth. Sending her Robb to spend a handful of wild, merry years on its sea-and-salt soaked stony shores in the name of the friendship Sansa’s brother had once shared with Theon only served to cement the prospering friendship between her and Yara’s people.

She hadn’t sent him there with the intention of his seducing Alannys Greyjoy, Yara’s fatherless daughter, but Robb was Sansa’s son to his bones, he knew how to play the game of thrones, had learned it as he’d learned to walk.

Lanny was as wild and fiercely independent as her mother, as any Iron Islander. Robb, the son of the Free Folk as much as he was a Prince of the North, never denied her strength or her right to inherit her mother’s position as Lady Reaper. Their marriage wasn’t unlike Sansa’s to Olyvar, in a way, except with a depth of friendship involved that came with spending years of their lives together before Lanny had stolen Robb away to be her ‘wife’, in Iron Island and Free Folk tradition both, their little Asha born less then five moons later. Sansa’s first grandchild.

Robb hadn’t remained on the Iron Islands; he didn’t demand to bring Asha back to the mainland with him, or that Lanny accompany him as his wife. Rather, he occasionally ‘stole’ Lanny, taking her and Asha to visit the North and the True North both, coaxing her to share her expertise in seafaring with the newly-created Northern Navy, before letting her ‘steal’ him back to the Islands.

Sansa had been delighted by their match, both for the affection they shared and for the ties to the Iron Islands it gave. Yara had toasted her, one visit, an amused if accepting look on her face. “Well played, my Queen.” She’d said. And Sansa could only smile.

Sansa had even had the potential support of the Reach; Daenerys, upon Tyrion’s advice, had gifted Ser Bronn of the Blackwater with Highgarden in return for his services to Tyrion. Ser Bronn was despised by the good people of the Reach and Sansa was well aware how their eyes strayed to other eligible Lords– Lords such as the line of Samwell Tarly who had an unfortunate fondness for Jon, but who had loved his brother and despised Daenerys, Jon’s queenly wife, for what she had done which strained that fondness over the decades.

Not to mention, Sansa had been careful to cultivate a gentle friendship with Gilly over the years the couple had spent living at Winterfell, with not-so-little Sam offered a fair position in her household, and the son Gilly later bore Sam, Lord Herndon Tarly, squiring under Ser Brienne, Commander of Sansa’s Queensguard, at Sansa’s behest– a fact all involved were well-aware of.

And if, perhaps, Herndon joined Torrhen, Robb, Raya, Galladon and Jainne in their lessons, where the next generation learned how to rule keeps and kingdoms alike, well, Herndon had been born and raised in her court; he was no fool. He knew her aspirations for him and he rose to meet them gladly. Herndon may have been a Tarly in name, but he had Gilly’s blood, Northern blood, in his veins; he was loyal to her children, to the North, to her.

Sansa wondered if Daenerys had even noticed the net Sansa had cast, like the Ironborn legend of Sanna** that Theon had once told her; a rebellious young girl thrown into the sea to drown by her father, sinking below the waves only to be born again in a fury of violent storms and seas, snaring the oceans with a net of her hair to trap the catch so her father’s people starved for his sins. Men and women had starved for Daenerys’ sins. They had starved for Sansa’s sins too.

She wished she could protect Naruto from such horrors that a leader, a commander, a prince, must face. She would protect Naruto’s childhood innocence, she had long since made herself that vow, but she would not allow him to grow up naïve either. She could not. It would be an injustice to her brother. This world, all worlds, were cruel; better to understand and strive to make it a better place than to see it through the eyes of a summer child, blind to the harsh reality of winter.

This was her vow to her brother, before the old gods and the new.

*“The Price of Command” – Mercedes Lackey

**Based of the mythology of Sanna, also known as Sedna, the Inuit goddess of the sea and marine animals. Sanna/Sedna rules over the underworld that is located beneath the land and the sea. There are a number of versions of her myth, but in each her father takes her to sea in his kayak and cuts off her fingers when she tries clinging to side, so she sinks to the bottom of the sea. She is generally considered a vengeful goddess.  

Chapter Text

NINETEEN:

"Excellent," Kazumi said briskly when the ANBU escorted them back to the orphanage, the day following the Kyuubi festival. "Kanna-chan, Naruto-kun, go inside. Fuyuko-chan, you're with me." Sansa blinked but acquiesced to the matron of the orphanage's demand, waving goodbye to her brother and Kanna before following after Kazumi.

Kobayashi Kazumi was a hard woman, but Sansa held no resentment toward the matron who presided over the orphanage she and her brother called home. Kazumi may never have shown her or Naruto any love, but she ran the orphanage with a strict manner that left no room for neglect or abuse– a fact which relieved Sansa, considering the... incidents that had taken place at the beginning.

She didn't refer to the attempted murders by the children Kurama had orphaned here, but rather the incidents perpetrated by the workers at the orphanage. They had been small things; one woman backhanded Sansa across the face for spilling water on the floor. Another had seized onto Naruto and shaken him roughly when he wouldn't stop crying. Another yet had harshly shoved Naruto out of their path instead of walking around him.

All small things, but they had added up to a larger, grimmer picture with darker implications for the future. Kazumi had seen that grim picture, had understood those dark implications, and stepped forward, putting a stop to the potential for an increasingly abusive situation. For that, she had earned Sansa's gratitude and a measure of trust that led to the amicable relationship between them. That Kazumi had then offered Sansa the opportunity to earn money through her mending efforts only served to increase that gratitude.

Following the woman through the streets of Konoha, Sansa couldn't help but be curious as to where Kazumi was leading her. It was clear they were making their way to the village proper and Sansa took care to remain close by Kazumi's side; she felt almost as if she was walking unclothed without a scarf to hide her bright hair or dirt on her cheeks to hide the whisker marks. She could feel the attention of the scant few villagers who were out and about in the wake of the Kyuubi Festival turning towards her. Their harsh glares felt like the burning lashes of a whip against her skin and Sansa focused her eyes forward, ignoring the hiss of voices behind her and the bubbling hate in the swell of chakra, even as it stabbed at her senses, like red-hot fire-pokers.

Kazumi led them to the merchant's district, one that Sansa was unaccustomed to travelling, though she was familiar with it through her time spent warging into the various wildlife of Konoha. Most of the stores were closed but Kazumi clearly had a specific destination in mind, making her way straight to a small store with a sign 'Silken Threads'.

The store was crowded inside, filled with colourful fabrics draped over wooden stands and pinned to wickerwork dress-forms. The two women inside were busy at work; the younger woman was bent over a beautifully dyed silk with vibrant embroidery of golds, greens and blues, while the older woman was frowning over a thick sheaf of papers. They both looked up when Sansa and Kazumi walked in and while the younger woman immediately shied away, the scent of her fear flooding the small store, the older woman looked down at Sansa with a pinched face, her eyes sharp and searching.

She wasn't an unpleasant-looking woman; she was wiry, with steel-grey hair and sharp, pale blue eyes and a face lined by age. The younger woman looked alike enough to her that she had to be her daughter, though her skin was softer and her hair a gentle shade of lilac. Sansa couldn't feel any hate coming from the older woman, or any fear, but the woman didn't appear particularly welcoming either.

"So this is her," she said, her voice as sharp as her eyes.

"This is her," Kazumi confirmed, pushing Sansa forwards, almost causing her to stumble.

"She doesn't look like much," was the woman's observation and Sansa smiled at the woman, sharp teeth tucked away, keeping herself sweet and soft.

"I am Uzumaki Fuyuko," She said prettily, with a perfect bow, "it is a pleasure to meet you."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Inaba Shiori," she said, inclining her head. "And this is my daughter, Inaba Mariko."

Mariko gave a jerky bow, still stinking of fear. Sansa smiled sweetly back at her, hands clasped together as she bowed again. "Your work is so lovely, Inaba-san!" She chirped, like the little bird she wasn't, and she was satisfied when Mariko smiled tentatively at the praise.

"You do fine work too, girl," Shiori said, and Sansa turned back to the woman with that hard, thoughtful gaze. "I saw the dress you made your friend, and the odd style of shirt for your brother. The embroidery on them both was outstanding for someone your age and without any formal training. Despite your... background, it would be a sin to turn you away."

"Turn me away?" Sansa asked, puzzled.

"Yes," Shiori said. "Kazumi's an old friend of mine and she's vouched for you. She says I won't regret offering you a chance, so I'm going to. Uzumaki Fuyuko, I'm offering you an apprenticeship."

Sansa gasped, honestly surprised. "Inaba-san!" she said, after a moment of stunned silence, "I– I am honoured by this oppurtunity!"

"You'll need to work hard, girl," Shiori warned. "I'm not easy to please."

"Good," Sansa said, lifting her chin high, her eyes flashing, "because I don't believe in being anything less than the best."

That managed to shock Shiori into a smile. "You were right, Kazumi," she said, glancing back up at the matron, who had her own pleased smile on her face. "She'll fit in perfectly."

~

Sansa could barely contain her excitement as she and Kazumi returned to the orphanage, the hateful glares of the villagers sliding off her like water off the feathers of a duck in light of the giddy happiness she felt. The moment they arrived, she reached for the feel of Naruto's chakra, tracking him down to the backyard and tackling him in a hug. 

It was humbling, she couldn't help but think. In one life, Sansa had been a noble lady, then a princess, then a queen. To be a simple apprentice to a seamstress, a dress-maker, was so far beneath Sansa Stark that it didn't even bear mentioning. Now, as Uzumaki Fuyuko, Sansa could barely contain her joy as she hugged her brother tight.  

"Where's Kanna?" She asked Naruto, breathless and wanting to share the good news with her.

"She took the inari to our secret shrine," Naruto whispered loudly to her, pressing his finger to his lips in a 'shh' gesture and Sansa beamed at him, leaning forwards to kiss his forehead.

"Do you want to come with me, little storm?" she asked. "I have some wonderful news to share!"

"Yatta!" Naruto cheered, sitting up and punching the air with his fist.

Sansa jumped lightly to her feet and tugged Naruto up after her, the pair of them tumbling out onto the streets. Her brother was giggling as he followed her, his sandals slapping on the ground, and she absently made a note to start teaching him to walk with grace, rather than like a stampeding horse. 

The streets were still sparsely populated, as they tended to be in the aftermath of a village-wide festival, so Sansa took a more straightforward route than usual, cutting through Konoha proper rather than the village outskirts. As they reached the torri that marked the pathway to Inari-sama's shrine, she and Naruto started the clap-and-bow routine, making their slow pilgrimage up to their lovingly restored shrine. Only, as they rounded the bend in the river, Sansa gasped in horror, her mood abruptly plunging from its high.

"Oh no," she whispered, tears welling up at the sight of the destruction before them. The shrine they had so painstakingly restored had been brutally ravaged; the outside walls had been viciously hacked and bludgeoned and she already dreaded what damage they may find within its walls. What destruction had been wrought by grief-stricken villagers during the Kyuubi Festival? How long would it take them to fix?

And, most importantly of all, how had Kanna reacted? Sansa remembered with growing dread how profound Kanna's grief had been in reaction to the sacking of the shrine her mother had worshipped at. To have it happen all over again, and on the anniversary of her death... it didn't even bear thinking of. 

With a heavy heart, Sansa made her way towards the shrine. She bowed twice at the threshold and clapped before linking hands with Naruto again and stepping across the threshold, only to freeze, her breath catching as a terrible chill crept through her limbs, ice settling over her as she laid eyes on the violence that awaited them within their lovingly restored haven.

Naruto was saying something, but it took Sansa a moment to realise– it was as if he was speaking to her from a great distance. "Ko-ane... Ko-ane..." he said, in a trembling voice that told her he instinctively understood that something was so terribly, terribly wrong. "Ko-ane... why is Ka-ane sleeping on the ground?" 

Sansa couldn't answer him. She couldn't breathe. She felt like she was falling into ice-cold water– she was drowning, drowning, the familiar maw of grief stretching open to swallow her whole.

She could barely even recognise Kanna's beautiful face beneath the blood and exposed bone. But Kanna was wearing the rose dress Sansa had so lovingly sewed her, the white fabric having soaked up enough red to match the velvet roses, and her familiar green hair, the tangled strands clumped with tacky crimson, was fanned out around her.

There was so much blood.

Distantly, Sansa thought the worst part might be the smell. She remembered the smell so clearly; the thick, rich iron perfume that clung to the air when blood had stained the ground a vivid crimson, painting its tragic tale of violence and death. 

Or perhaps the worst part was how familiar it all was. The blood, the horror, the murder, the loss... no matter the world she lived in, no matter the skin she wore, it seemed she was destined to have her family torn from her. That bitter truth carved itself deep into Sansa's heart even as the keen ache of Kanna's absence settled into her bones like a long lost friend.

Naruto had started whimpering and Sansa was finally startled into action when he jerked his hand free from her frozen grip and darted forwards. "No!" She cried out desperately, but it was too late. Naruto was dropping to his knees in the sticky pool of blood, his small hands smearing red as he grasped onto Kanna's shoulder, shaking her and pleading for her to wake up.

"Ka-ane!" He sobbed, "Ka-ane! Wake up! WAKE UP!"

Bile rose in Sansa's throat, thin and acidic. She stumbled forward, stumbled over to Naruto, and grasped onto him. He screamed as she dragged him back, fighting her grip, all teeth and claws and oh-so familiar chakra; all rage and malice and burning under his skin. Sansa could feel where his claws were gouging rents in her skin, could feel where his canines were clamping down on her flesh, but she could also feel where his tears were dripping onto her, and somehow, that hurt far worse.

Sansa barely noticed as their ANBU watchers finally seemed to realise that something was wrong, so focused she was on wrestling the wild, wounded creature that was her brother away from their sister's body, away from those empty, glassy eyes, endlessly blank and gazing far beyond where the living could comprehend, even as Naruto fought so ferociously to return to Kanna's side.

Her brother opened his mouth and screamed, Yang Kurama's exploding out of him in a blast of rage-grief-fury-hate-loss and the very air around them seemed to shudder in a familiar, furious rush of oppressive, burning power, the weight of it staggering. Sansa gasped for air, stubbornly clutching onto Naruto even as he wailed, his eyes red-red-red, the same as Kurama's, and she realised, heart sinking, that everything was rapidly spiralling out of control, that they were teetering on a knife's edge towards truly dangerous.

She reacted more on instinct than anything else. She and Naruto were already on the ground so it took little effort to shift their positions, wrestling him down so she was effectively pinning him, the way they did when they played as wolves. She then leaned forward, pressed her teeth to his throat and growled, guttural and commanding.

Finally, at long last, Naruto went still.

"My little storm, my dearest prince, my sweetling–" she crooned in the Old Tongue against his throat, soothing him even as she held him down, relief flooding her as the corrosive, malignant chakra sank back under his skin. She nuzzled at his neck as he sobbed, wrapping her arms around him, letting him latch onto her. She didn't even let go of him as they were lifted by another set of arms, just vaguely registered that the arms belonged to a female in a white cat mask who stank of sweat and panic.

They were taken to a building Sansa didn't recognise. Like the hospital, it was clean and bright, all sharp angles and white walls. The room they were placed in was stark and bare; the coat of white paint doing little to disguise the fact the walls were built of solid stone and she could see the seals glowing softly on them. Even with the state she was in, Sansa wasn't fool enough not to realise this was a cell. She didn't recognise the seals on the walls, but she recognised components of them, from her studies with Mito– enough to know their purpose; contain, constrain, withstand.

Sansa closed her eyes as they were left clinging to each other, under the harsh, bright light above them. The ground was hard beneath them; there was no softness, no lies. This was Konoha stripped back to its core; harsh, hard, a bright, glaring white. No kindness. No warmth.

Naruto was whimpering, exhausted. His skin was red and raw-looking and Sansa absently noted the blistering on her own hands from where she'd held him down, held him through the miasma of Kurama's corrosive, scouring chakra. Her dress was ripped and bloody from Naruto's struggles and both her blood and Kanna's had smeared her brother crimson.

Kanna.

Kanna Kanna Kanna.

Sansa closed her eyes and keened, clinging to Naruto just as hard as he was clinging to her. She could feel his claws digging into her skin, sharp bursts of pain, but she didn't even care, couldn't summon the energy to. All she could do was finally let the tears spill, weeping like her heart was breaking as she yet again mourned the loss of one she loved.

~

Hiruzen dismissed the reporting ANBU with a wave of his hand and turned his cold gaze onto the sole remaining occupant of his office. Danzo stared back, entirely remorseless.

"That was foolish of you," he said coldly.

"No," Danzo shook his head, "the foolishness lies in having allowed the Jinchūriki to grow attached to a civilian. That girl was a liability and until today she was the single greatest influence over the Jinchūriki. That could not be allowed to continue."

"The twins could have been removed from the orphanage without the necessity of her death," Hiruzen pointed out, frustrated that Danzo had made such a decision without consulting him first.

"And you believe the Jinchūriki would have accepted that?" Danzo asked, just as coldly as he had. "You have allowed them to grow up soft, Hiruzen. They are attached and are already known to slip past their ANBU guard. They would have sought her out and resented Konoha for keeping them apart from her."

"And now they will resent Konoha for her death!" Hiruzen slammed his palms against his desk, frustrated.

"As far as they are aware, she was killed by a grieving civilian who lost their parents to the Kyuubi," Danzo dismissed his concerns. Hiruzen tightened his jaw but did not refute Danzo's claim. "And we were able to gain valuable information from the incident today," Danzo added, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The boy is just as capable of channelling the Kyuubi's chakra as the girl, and now that they are four years of age you cannot be opposed to beginning their training."

"...it isn't a coincidence you had the girl, Kanna, killed now, is it?" Hiruzen asked wearily. Danzo just smiled.

"I look forward to hearing of their progress at the Academy."

Hiruzen sighed again. "I'll have them enrolled," he said. "And I'll tell the matron of the orphanage to, ah, 'kick them out'. I can approach them on the streets, offer them their own apartment in trade for attending the Academy." They wouldn't refuse; not frightened, alone, cold and hungry.

Danzo's smile widened. "As you say, Lord Hokage." He said, and Hiruzen almost smiled back at the implicit approval he could hear in his old friend's voice.

A/N: I apologise everyone, I know Kanna was loved and I feel so guilty but I've been planning her death from the moment she was introduced and even when people got more attached then I thought they would, I couldn't think of a way around her loss. Again, I'm so sorry people! xx  

Chapter Text

TWENTY:

It was strange, Sansa thought bitterly, how swiftly joy could turn to sorrow. 

The funeral plot before her was small and marked only by a smooth, round stone with the kanji for Kanna’s name engraved upon its grey surface. It was unremarkable and that seemed unjust to her, for Kanna had been a truly remarkable person. 

It had been two days now since she and Naruto had found Kanna’s body in the shrine. They had been released from the cell after the first day, once it had become apparent that neither of them were about to lose control of Kurama– again, in Naruto’s case– and returned to the orphanage by ANBU, where they were met by a grim-faced Kazumi and a member of the Konoha Military Police Force. 

There had been an investigation into Kanna’s murder, they had been told, and the culprit found. The guilty party was a man who had lost his wife and children in the Kyuubi attack; he had been vandalising the shrine when Kanna had arrived to pray and give the offerings to Inari-sama. She had confronted him and he had reacted by bludgeoning her about the head and face. Sansa wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she wasn’t sure if she mattered; either way, it was Konoha who had murdered Kanna. And she would never forgive the village for her sister's death. 

Naruto didn’t know how to deal with Kanna’s loss. He didn’t quite understand that she was gone and kept asking for her and crying when Sansa tried explaining that Kanna had gone to sleep forever. Sansa alternated between feeling numb and feeling wretchedly furious. It was familiar to her; she’d felt the same each time another member of her family had died, or she had believed them to be dead. Her father, Robb, her mother, Bran, Rickon... even Arya’s survival she had doubted. And oh, how she had raged behind her empty platitudes and useless chirping. Sansa did not bother with such pretences now. She did not need to hide her grief here, and she was grateful for that small blessing. 

The funeral service for Kanna was a simple one; a number of the orphans had attended, as had Kanna’s baker boy. Sansa wore a black dress and Naruto a black yukata, both lent to them by the older orphans. Her eyes were dry even as her heart wept and beside her the tears streamed endlessly down a sniffling Naruto’s red, puffy face. 

The grief settled over Sansa, heavy as a funeral shroud, as the service ended. One by one, the mourners left, but Sansa and Naruto remained at the grave, below which Kanna’s body slept in eternal rest. Sansa’s stomach turned to think about it, to think of Kanna, so bright and alive, in her bed of grave dirt. Naruto was still crying and Sansa didn’t stop him as he stumbled forwards, falling to his knees on the freshly-turned earth, but she did kneel beside him and gently grasp onto his wrists when he started trying to dig up the soil, trying to get to Kanna below. “I wan’ Ka-ane!” he sobbed, slumping into her grip, turning his small face so it was pressed against her neck.

“I know,” Sansa whispered, her heart aching. “I know. I do too, little storm. I do too.” 

It was dark by the time they returned to the orphanage, both of them exhausted, shivering from the cold air and dirty from kneeling in the soil. Sansa wanted nothing more than to curl up in Kanna’s arms and fall asleep, but as they approached the doors to the orphanage, Kazumi stepped out to meet them, a bag in her hands. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, and her mouth was twisted in a thin, unhappy line, her chakra churning furiously under her skin, “but you’re not welcome here anymore.” 

Sansa blinked dumbly up at her, not able to process her words. “What?” she asked and Kazumi dropped the bag, letting it fall to the ground at Sansa’s feet. 

“You’re not welcome here,” Kazumi repeated. “I can’t have you getting another one of my kids killed.” 

Sansa felt like she’d been stabbed; she actually stumbled backwards, staring up at Kazumi with wide, shocked eyes. Kazumi’s face was hard, as were her eyes, nothing evident to soften the harsh blow of her words… except her chakra was wrong. It was twisting and angry, but that anger wasn’t directed at Sansa and Naruto– Sansa knew how that felt, she knew it well. Despite her words, despite how she appeared… Kazumi was not angry at them. 

But she was kicking them out. 

Bowing her head, Sansa reached for the bag with trembling fingers and Kazumi nodded sharply, turning and heading back inside, the door of the orphanage thudding shut behind her with a sort of finality that had Sansa’s breath hitch. 

“Ko-ane,” Naruto whispered, tugging on the sleeve of her black dress. His blue eyes were wide and frightened. “What’re we gonna do?”

Sansa swallowed. 

“Let me think for a moment, little storm,” she said in her best soothing voice. 

If it was just her, she would have gone and found refuge in Tsukiko’s den, amongst Lady and her litter-mates, but Tsukiko had already warned her that when a human performed the ‘summoning jutsu’ without signing a contract, they were taken to the realm of the spirits that suited their soul best. She had no guarantee that Naruto would be taken to the realm of the wolf spirits– and that was a moot point, anyway, as Naruto did not know yet how to channel his chakra. 

She thought briefly of the shrine, too, but almost immediately shied away from the thought, a sickness rising in her stomach at the memory of wet pools of blood, of sightless, glassy eyes and green hair soaked red. She could not return there, not when she did not even know if it had even been cleaned yet of Kanna’s lifeblood, and she could not take Naruto there, back to the scene where his sister had been murdered. She would not do that to him. 

Hoping to find something useful, Sansa somewhat desperately opened the bag Kazumi had given them and almost groaned with relief. Their clothes were inside, as was Naruto’s favourite book, a set of sewing needles, a spool of thread, her money pouch and Naruto's stuffed wolf 'Inu'. She took a deep breath, even as she tugged Naruto’s threadbare but better than nothing jacket from the bag. 

“Put this on,” she told him, and he did gladly. She pulled on her own jacket too, slipping her money pouch into the inside pocket before buttoning it up. “Alright,” she said. “Alright. I know someone, they might be able to help.” 

It wasn’t her first choice, but she was getting desperate at this point and her contacts in Konoha were few and far between. 

They wrapped their usual scarves around their hair, winding the fabric around their faces and necks to shield them from the cold night air, before setting off. Sansa led Naruto through the streets, careful to keep to the shadows. Bitterly, she kept track of the ANBU following them but failing to intervene, and wondered what monsters would let two young children be left out in the cold of the night. 

Naruto followed her silently and Sansa hated how quiet he was; her brother was supposed to be loud, Naruto was sunshine and brightness and joy, not this sad, silent child. Her rage twisted and tore at her insides and Sansa had to take deep breaths, had to wrangle it back down as it clawed its way up her throat, threatening to escape her tight control. She didn’t have time to be angry; she needed to focus, especially as they entered the Yūkaku.

The Yūkaku was more alive at night than the rest of Konoha. The streets were lit by bars and bright hanging lights, men and women made their way along the streets in various states of dress- and undress- and Sansa spied the occasional child darting about underfoot. 

Sansa kept Naruto close, avoiding the adults as she made her way to the Palace of Flowers. The three-storey building had a lantern lit at the front window and Sansa saw a man in an expensive-looking yukata enter through the front doors, but she took Naruto around the side of the building, down the alley until she found another door. Taking a deep breath, Sansa knocked.

A young woman answered the door. She was beautiful; her long, dark hair was pinned up in an elegant bun and her sleek, lavender kimono was long and split open to reveal the pale curves of her breasts. She blinked down at them with long, feathery lashes, seeming surprised. 

“Hello,” Sansa spoke with more confidence then she felt, blinking up at the woman with big, wide eyes, “is Tama-neesan home?” 

The woman’s red-painted mouth curved into a gentle smile, though her eyes gleamed with sharp interest. “Why yes,” she said in a soft voice, before stepping back and sweeping her arm in an elegant gesture that had the wide sleeve of her kimono fluttering. “Do come inside, darlings, you must be so cold. I’ll go fetch Tama-chan, nee?” 

“Thank you, neesan,” Sansa smiled just as sweetly (falsely) as the woman closed the door behind them with an unsettling click of a lock and watched her glide off, disappearing through another doorway. Naruto clung to her, afraid. 

“Where are we?” He whispered. Sansa reached up to where he was gripping onto her and squeezed his hand.

“With an ally,” she whispered back. She hoped, anyway. 

They stood together, waiting. To her relief, Tama didn’t take long to arrive, rushing through the doorway the woman had disappeared through.

“What the fuck’re ya doin’ here?” she hissed, looking like she wanted to seize them both and shake them. “Ya idiots! This ain’t a place ta hang about! ‘Specially at night!”

“We got kicked out of the orphanage. I didn’t know where else to go,” Sansa admitted with a bitter smile and Tama deflated slightly. 

“So ya chose where all th’ unwanted kids go,” she sighed and Sansa nodded, still holding Naruto close. “Righ’,” she muttered. “Shit. A’right. Yeh can stay here tonigh’. I got some friends I’ll set ya up wiv tomorrow that won’ turn ‘round an’ sell ya to the yaks*.”

“Sell us?” Sansa asked, alarmed. 

“Pretty li’l things like the pair o’ ya?” Tama scoffed. “The yaks’d love ta add ya to their stables.”

Sansa shuddered, not having thought of that. Tama patted her arm sympathetically. “Don’ worry,” she said. “Yer both one of us now, yeah? We’ll teach ya how ta survive.”

Sansa couldn’t help but think she would be a good student; survival, after all, was something she had always excelled at. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly and Tama smiled. It softened her hard face. 

“Don’ thank me,” she said. “It ain’t gonna be easy.”

“Survival never is.” Sansa replied. 

~

Sansa slept badly that night. Sharing a sleeping mat in a small room with two strangers– Tama and her mother, Yuu– made her instincts prickle uncomfortably, not to mention the unsettling twist of pleasure and unhappiness that clung to the air in the Palace of Flowers. Sansa took care not to stir restlessly and keep her companions awake and though she dearly wished she could have let her mind drift away, to seek comfort with Lady or even Kurama and Mito, she did not dare leave her body vulnerable. 

She never managed to fall asleep, so when the new chakra presence arrived at the whorehouse the following morning, Sansa was immediately alert. The presence felt familiar and old, like the towering mountains that had withstood the test of time, and if there was one lesson Sansa had learned from Tywin Lannister and Olenna Tyrell and even the loathsome Walder Frey, it was those that lived long enough to be old should never be underestimated. 

She wasn’t surprised by the light knock to the door and gently shook Naruto awake as Tama and Yuu stirred, Tama yawning and rising to her feet to answer. It was the woman who had let Sansa and Naruto inside the night before. Her curtain of dark hair hung loose now over her shoulders and down her back and she was clad in a simple satin night-gown that hung half open, revealing far more of her bare body then was decent. 

“Kotone-neesan,” Tama greeted her, bowing. Sansa didn’t miss the hint of wariness in her voice and made sure to bow too, mimicking the older girl’s show of respect. 

“Darlings,” Kotone said sweetly, “our guests appear to have a guest of their own. It wouldn’t do to be rude and keep him waiting.” 

Sansa swallowed and turned to Naruto, holding out her hand to him. “Come on, little storm,” she said, letting her voice show none of her concern. Naruto smiled tentatively, reaching out to grasp her hand and the pair of them followed Kotone as she gracefully swept through the Palace. Sansa kept her eyes fixed on Kotone’s back, rather than on the corridor of doorways leading off to private rooms. 

Kotone led them to a traditionally furnished parlour, entering and immediately bowing deeply. “Honoured sir,” the courtesan murmured. Sansa recognised the old man waiting within the parlour immediately and copied Kotone’s actions, bowing gracefully and prompting Naruto to do the same.

The Hokage smiled as they straightened up, warm and kind. “Naruto-kun, Fuyuko-chan,” He said, “I’m so glad to see you both safe. I was very worried when nobody could find you after I heard about what happened with the orphanage.”

Sansa widened her eyes, donning her best confused expression even as suspicion curled within her, ugly and hissing. She was well aware that the Hokage must have known exactly where they were from the time they had been kicked out of the orphanage to now– she’d felt the ANBU’s presence watching them constantly and she knew who it was they reported to. So why was the Hokage pretending otherwise?

The Hokage directed his warm smile in the direction of Kotone. “I apologise for troubling you, but if we could have the room...?” He asked and the courtesan bowed again.

“Of course, honoured sir,” she murmured before backing from the parlour, disappearing in a soft flurry of silks. 

The Hokage turned back to Sansa and Naruto, a heavy expression crossing his face. “Kobayashi-san approached me this morning,” he said wearily. “She told me that she told you last night you were no longer welcome at the orphanage. I’ve had my shinobi searching for you since. I’m glad to see you are both uninjured and found somewhere warm and dry to spend the night.”

Sansa kept her head half-bowed as if upset, letting a curtain of long, red hair hide her face from the Hokage. She wasn’t sure if her eyes would show her fury at the lies and didn’t want to risk it. 

“But it’s not fair!” Naruto burst out, and Sansa could hear the tremble in his voice. “Why would Kazumi-obaasan want us ta leave? It’s our home!”

“I know,” the Hokage said sympathetically. “I wish there was something I could do, Naruto-kun.” 

It took all Sansa had to keep from laughing incredulously. The Hokage was lord over the village! His word was law! Him being unable to do anything about them being kicked out of the orphanage made about as much sense as them being kicked out in the first place!

...because it didn’t make sense, did it? Nothing about the situation made sense and that couldn’t be a coincidence. But what purpose could be behind it all? Sansa could hear Petyr’s words, whispering their way across her mind; Sometimes when I try to understand a person’s motives I play a little game. I assume the worst. What’s the worst reason they could possibly have for saying what they say and doing what they do?

The Hokage was behind Kazumi’s actions, Sansa was sure of it. But there was a grander purpose to it all, of that she had no doubt. She just did not have all the facts yet, so she focused on him and listened, waiting for him to reveal his motives. 

“What’re we gonna do?” Naruto whimpered, his eyes large and wet. “I’m hungry an’– an’ I wan’ my bed an’ my Ka-ane an’ my Inu-chan**!” He burst into tears and Sansa pulled him into her arms, let him push his face into the warm skin of her neck. 

The Hokage stood from the couch and knelt on the ground before them, gently reaching across to rest a gentle hand on Naruto’s back. “I know everything seems difficult now,” he said, sounding genuinely sad. “But all is not without hope. You may not be able to return to the orphanage, but there are options available to you. Have you heard of the Konoha Ninja Academy?”

Sansa froze; she felt like her blood and turned to ice in her veins as horror choked her, stopped her breathing. 

“The ‘cademy?” Naruto mumbled, lifting his head from her neck. “Promised not ta talk ‘bout it.”

Sansa saw a brief flicker of confusion cross the Hokage’s face, before it was dismissed in place of the kindly smile. 

“If you both join the Academy,” he explained, “you’ll be provided with a special orphan stipend that will allow you to rent an apartment and live together. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

It sounded condescending, implausible and negligent, in Sansa’s opinion, and she made sure to keep her sharp teeth tucked behind soft lips as she smiled prettily up at the Hoakge. 

“Thank you, Hokage-sama, but I can't join the Academy. I already have an apprenticeship with a seamstress,” she said politely. The Hokage’s gentle smile wavered slightly. 

“I’m afraid the orphan’s stipend doesn’t cover civilian apprenticeships,” he told her. 

“But I have to follow my dream, Hokage-sama,” Sansa said earnestly, letting her eyes go round and wet. “Ka-ane always told me how beautiful my sewing was. Now that she’s– that she’s–,” Sansa paused to let a pretty little sob escape, “now that she’s gone, I have to follow my dream. For her.” She looked up at the Hokage with wet, determined eyes and a trembling smile. 

The Hokage’s smile was strained and his eyes were frustrated. “You should give the Academy a chance, Fuyuko-chan,” he said, “you might find you like it more then you realise.” 

“Thank you, Hokage-sama, but I’ve already accepted the apprenticeship offer,” she demurred.

“Your parents were shinobi,” the Hokage tried, and Sansa wondered if he was this heavy-handed with everyone, or just with four-year-old children he assumed were easily led about. “They wanted you to be shinobi too.”

Sansa gasped theatrically, widening her eyes. “Our parents?” she asked. “You knew our parents? What are their names?” Naruto looked up too, just as eager.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you their names until you’ve graduated from the Academy,” the Hokage said smoothly. “They had many enemies and you will need to be able to defend yourselves.”

Sansa had to push down the rage she felt. Did the Hokage honestly believe they’d just go around spilling the secret to everyone who’d listen? Is that why he felt he had the right to keep the identity of their parents from them? She vowed, then and there, that the moment she and Naruto were alone, she would tell him of their parents. She’d told him stories, of course; he knew their mother was a princess and their father had been a lord***, but he didn’t know their names yet. 

It was a petty revenge, but Sansa was feeling petty– and, more importantly, Naruto deserved the truth. 

Looking up at the Hokage, Sansa let her eyes fill with tears. “But that means I’ll never know their names!” She wailed. It took the Hokage a moment to understand what she meant and she saw the frustration cross his face when he did.

“Fuyuko-chan,” he said, “I’m afraid that you don’t have a choice. You must join the Academy.” 

Sansa felt her anger rise, felt the hint of burning under her skin as she let her soft lips peel back to reveal sharp teeth. “I will not be a shinobi,” she said, doing away with all pretences of innocence. The Hokage blinked then focused on her, his eyes sharp. 

“You will,” he said.

No, Sansa vowed to herself, meeting his eyes fiercely, I will not. I will burn this gods-forsaken village to the ground before I ever become its weapon. 

*Yaks = Yakuza

**Naruto is referring to the stuffed toy wolf Kanna gave him as a present that he named Inu, not Kakashi

***Sansa views the Hokage position as the equivalent to a lord and the Daimyo as a lord paramount/king - she hasn't quite decided

Chapter Text

TWENTY-ONE:

"Introduce yourselves!" The man snapped.

Sansa pressed her lips together and said nothing. Beside her, Naruto shifted uneasily.

The Hokage hadn't given them time to say goodbye to Tama or to collect their belongings. They hadn't even been given them time to change; they were both still dressed in the clothes they'd worn to Kanna's funeral, with their threadbare jackets and scarves wrapped over their hair. Instead, the Hokage had had his ANBU pick them up and forcibly carry them to the Konoha Ninja Academy. Sansa had considered kicking and screaming and making a fuss, but she was a princess, and she had been a Queen; she would not shame her ancestors so, she had more dignity then that. Instead, she had maintained a stony silence as the wolf inside her had howled its rage, pacing restlessly at its confines.

When the ANBU carried her into the classroom full of staring six and seven year old children and sat her down at one of the desks, Sansa held her head high, ignoring the whispers around her, like the hissing of a nest of snakes. Instead, she stared straight ahead at the wall, ignoring everyone. When Naruto was placed next to her, she shifted slightly, reaching out to link her hand with his and squeeze gently, but otherwise didn't shift her gaze even slightly, not even when the teacher called for them to introduce themselves.

"I said," the man who was to be their instructor repeated, and Sansa could feel an unsettling presence in the air, something laced with malice that had Naruto shivering beside her, "introduce yourselves!"

"I– I'm Uzumaki Naruto," her brother stammered, shrinking into her side, "a– and this is my sister, Uzumaki Fuyuko."

"And can your sister not speak for herself?" the instructor demanded, and Naruto flinched into her. She squeezed his hand again but stayed stubbornly silent, mentally apologising to her brother.

"Sh-she isn't going to b-be a ninja," Naruto stammered. "She's going to be a s-seamstress, dattebayo!"

Sansa's lips twitched slightly at his enthusiastic 'believe it!' but in her peripheral vision, she could see the dark look that crossed the instructor's face.

"She will be a shinobi or she will die," he said coldly and Naruto flinched again, tears filling his eyes. Sansa's jaw clenched and the anger rose up in her again, the wounds left from Kanna's death still too raw for his careless words to not draw blood. But still, she remained silent.

She let herself retreat into the back of her mind without falling into her mindscape or warging, simply sitting back and observing from a distance as her body went through the motions of sitting and staring at the wall while the instructor seemed to alternate between teaching the class and singling out her and Naruto to fling verbal abuse. Naruto kept shrinking into her, trembling and flinching, and Sansa hated, oh she hated so fiercely and fervently, but she refused to end her silent protest.

And then came sparring practice. A wave of dread washed over Sansa as the class scrambled eagerly to their feet and rushed for outside. The instructor made his way straight over to her and Naruto, a nasty grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Sansa just barely held back a flinch as he grabbed her by the arm, wrenching her up from the seat and ignoring how her hand was torn from Naruto's grip, causing her brother to cry out.

"Follow me!" he barked at Naruto, before dragging her along as he headed outside after the class, not even giving her time to stand. Sansa gritted her teeth, telling herself 'there is no pain' as she breathed through the sharp ache. The instructor dropped her as soon as they'd reached the rest of the class and Naruto scurried over to her, crouching next to where she had fallen to the ground and latching onto her closest hand with both of his.

"Ko-ane," he whispered, eyes filled with tears. "Ko-ane, are you okay?"

"Shh, little prince," she murmured in the Old Tongue, "I will be fine. But promise me you will defend yourself– do not copy what I do. Promise me this, my storm. Fight with all you have." Naruto sniffed and nodded.

"I promise." He vowed, in the same language.

"Since you both seem confident enough to speak through the explanation," the instructor said suddenly, "I think you can go first. Uzumaki Fuyuko, get up here."

Sansa didn't move from her position laying prone on the grass. The instructor didn't care. He simply walked over, seized a handful of her hair and used it to wrench her into a standing position. Sansa couldn't help but gasp at the searing hot agony on her scalp, before gritting her teeth, determined that he wouldn't hear any other sound from her. She had learned how to take a beating during her time at the Red Keep, how to sway with the force of a blow, how to fall without hurting herself, how to grit her teeth and swallow her cries. She would endure this as she had endured so much worse.

'Give me strength,' she prayed to the old gods, to Inari-sama, to the Shinigami, 'give me the strength to endure this.'

"Defend yourself!" The instructor ordered. Sansa just met his eyes, let him see her calm resolve, and waited with her arms held loose at her sides, refusing to do as he ordered. His blow hit her so hard she saw stars. She fell to her knees and the following kick to her ribs had the air crash from her lungs; a second kick had her on her back, hitting the ground with enough force it jarred her teeth as she fought for air, pain lancing up and down her side. The instructor seized her by the hair again and her scalp burned as he pulled her to her feet. Sansa swayed, still struggling to breathe. She could hear Naruto crying and it broke her heart.

"I said," the instructor repeated coldly, "defend yourself!"

Sansa fought the urge to close her eyes, instead meeting his once more as she braced herself.

~

Sansa's body was still in the midst of recovering from shock when the Hokage and his ANBU came to collect her. Her entire upper body was shaking and every movement she made was jerky and unsteady. Being beaten by an adult male for nearly a half hour while she refused to defend herself from his violence had old, blood-soaked memories lurking closer to the surface of her mind then they had for some time, fraying at her composure.

Naruto had listened to her, at least. The instructor had paired him with a seven-year-old who had almost two feet in height on her brother, but Naruto had dropped low onto all fours, out of the reach of the much-taller boy, then growled and charged, tripping the boy and going straight for his throat, claws first, pinning him. The instructor hadn't been happy but Sansa had been fiercely pleased.

The Hokage had a grim look on his face as he talked to the instructor and that grim look didn't fade as he gestured for one of the ANBU to pick her up. Sansa couldn't help her flinch but the hands were gentle.

"Still such a terrifying little creature, aren't you?" the ANBU murmured and Sansa jerked her head up to look at them, even as she reached out with the senses she'd been keeping fixed on the comforting warmth of Naruto's chakra.

Tora. It was Tora.

Tears welled up in Sansa's eyes and she buried her face in Tora's vest to hide them. He may be one of the Hokage's ANBU, but Tora had been kind to her and she would allow herself this moment of weakness. Tora's hand cradled her still-aching back, holding her to his chest, and Sansa took the reprieve offered to rebuild her perfect mask of carved ice.

She could feel when Tora started running by the flickering of chakra presences flashing past them. When they stopped, she carefully wiped her cheeks clean of tears before lifting her head from Tora's chest.

They were in the Yūkaku, she noticed immediately. She recognised the run-down apartment complex– she had been thorough in her time spent exploring Konoha, as there was not much else an infant could do except warg into the minds of the local wildlife. If this was the apartment that the 'orphan stipend' attending the Academy earned them then Sansa was not impressed. Shinobi were expected to risk life and limb for the village and yet this was the best they were offered?

Or perhaps, Sansa thought bitterly, it was simply the best that she and Naruto were offered. After all, they were the ones despised for having Kurama sealed within them. It stood to reason that Konoha would prefer to have the Jinchūriki buried out of sight, like the rest of the village's undesirables– the prostitutes, the criminals, the homeless, the street rats... she and Naruto would fit right in.

She stayed silent as Tora followed the Hokage and the ANBU in the doe mask holding Naruto up four flights of stairs. She could feel the angry flick-flick-flickering of Tora's chakra and it comforted her, to know he was upset.

The Hokage stopped on the fourth floor and made his way to the door marked '3', pulling a key from his robe and opening the door. As Tora carried her into the apartment, Sansa looked around, careful to keep her face blank.

It wasn't awful, she could admit. The apartment had two rooms; the main room and a small room leading off it that contained a sink, a shower and a toilet. Within the main room, the heads of two sleeping mats were lined up along the wall to the right so they unfolded out towards the centre of the room and a set of drawers was pushed back against the back wall. Opposite to the sleeping mats, over to the left, was the tiny kitchen area with its stove, sink, microwave, pantry, and cupboard. In the centre of the room sat an old-looking sofa and sitting on that sofa was the bag they had left at the Palace of Flowers.

Sansa could work with this. She could make this a home.

She patted Tora's vest, silently asking to be put down. He immediately knelt down and she only winced slightly as she was set on her feet. Her body felt stiff and sore despite Kurama's healing and she rolled her shoulders slightly before moving forwards, ignoring the Hokage as she went straight over to the bag on the couch. Tipping it over, she was relieved to see everything was still there. Picking up Inu-chan, she smiled at Naruto.

"Look who's here," she said, holding it up. Naruto, still in doe-mask's arms, lit up.

"Inu-chan!" he cheered and Sansa felt the surge of amusement in Tora's chakra, along with the spike of concern/anger/fear.

At least that told her Inu was still alive for Tora to be concerned about, she comforted herself again.

"Fuyuko-chan," the Hokage said, and Sansa steeled herself, having known this was coming. "Harada-sensei told me you refused to participate in class today."

"I told you," Sansa said coldly. "I will not be a shinobi."

I will not be your weapon.

"It is your duty as a citizen of Konoha," the Hokage told her, "to serve your village."

"And I will serve my village," Sansa said with all the ice her young, high voice could manage, "by using the talents I have. I am a prodigious seamstress and recognised as such. I will not be a shinobi."

The Hokage sighed. "Very well," he said heavily. "You leave me no choice. You will be escorted to the Academy each day, Fuyuko-chan, until you choose to attend yourself. I beg of you, do not make this harder on yourself then it needs to be. Do you really want another day like today to happen?" he asked gently. But Sansa could hear the threat in those gentle words. She had been beaten by a grown man for a half hour today. Tomorrow, the beating could go on even longer. A normal four-year-old would crumble quickly under such pressure.

Sansa was not a normal four-year-old.

She would not break.

~

Sansa did not break. Day after day, she was forcibly escorted to the Academy by ANBU and endured the beatings at the hands of Harada-sensei and her classmates, ending each day aching, bruised and even bleeding. Being able to return to the apartment she now shared with Naruto at least made the beatings almost worth it. Sansa hadn't realised how much it had frustrated her to have her independance stripped from her until she'd been granted a small piece of it back. 

She imagined a normal four-year-old would struggle, suddenly finding themselves responsible for managing a household, but Sansa had been raised to run keeps and castles, and she had ruled kingdoms. She could manage one four-year-old child and an apartment with only two rooms. Keeping the apartment, their clothes and themselves clean was easily accomplished, with food quickly revealing itself to be the trickiest hurdle to overcome. 

Sansa's skills when it came to cooking were negligible, to put it best. There had always been servants available for such work and though the pantry and refrigerator had been left stocked for them, when faced with a sack of dried grains that she was supposed to turn into rice, Sansa found herself at a loss. 

She and Naruto spent the first several days surviving on the fresh fruits and vegetables she didn't have to cook until Sansa finally dragged the sofa over to the small kitchen area with Naruto's help so she was tall enough to light the stove the way they had been shown the day they were given the apartment. Tentatively placing their pot over the stove, Sansa quickly learned through trial and error that she was supposed to add water to the rice to cook it and that stirring the rice as it cooked stopped it from sticking to the sides and bottom of the pot and burning.

She couldn't help but feel proud of the only slightly chewy bowls of rice they had eaten that night and Naruto's enthusiasm as he dug in made her beam at him. Progress was slow from there, but she figured out how to add egg and vegetables to the rice, how to boil noodles and how to fry vegetables, which could be added to both the rice and the noodles. It wasn't an extravagant multi-course feast, but Sansa was proud of her efforts and Naruto seemed to enjoy them so she made sure to teach him alongside her as she learned.

Naruto was the type to learn best by doing, she had quickly realised. Robb, her brother, had been the same– he had struggled to sit still and learn his sums from Maester Luwin, preferring to be on his feet and moving. It meant Naruto struggled during the classes at the Academy where he had to sit down and listen to Harada-sensei lecture them, though he would have probably enjoyed the sparring if it wasn't for what Sansa was forced to endure during them.

Sansa found that retreating into her mindscape during Harada's beatings at least helped her protect herself from the pain, though it meant dealing with Kurama's agitation as they paced about their cage of weirwoods. "Filthy, wretched creatures," they would snarl viciously, tails burning with chakra. Mito was always more concerned than angry.

"A Jinchūriki is a valuable tool for a village," she warned Sansa, her face drawn tight with concern, "but a tool only has value so long as it fulfils its function."

"I cannot," Sansa said quietly. "And I will not. I have accepted that Naruto must train as a shinobi. He does not have my advantages and such training will increase his chances of survival in this world. But I will not be a weapon for these people."

"So be it," Mito sighed, bowing her head.

Tsukiko's reaction wasn't much better than Kurama's. Her snarls were vicious, ripping through the clearing as she paced, much like Kurama. Sansa just curled her mind around Lady's, weary and aching.

"They will not break me," she promised the she-wolf.

Not like Sakumo, went unspoken.

"They may not break you," Tsukiko said darkly, "but they can take you from us."

never/MINE/sansa is MINE

Hush Lady, nobody will not take me from you, Sansa soothed the snarling she-wolf entwined with her soul.

"Why do you resist, Sansa?" Tsukiko demanded. "Why do you fight, when it is simpler to play along? Kitsune are tricksters, and you have sealed within you the Nine-Tails Themself! Surely They have advised deception over this defiance!" 

"I defy," Sansa said quietly, "because I must preserve who I am. I am the daughter of a Lord Paramount and a Great Lady, and I am a Queen; I was not raised to be a mercenary for hire, or to be a soldier on the battlefield, and I have never wished to be either. I was raised to rule and I ruled well. I am not a weapon, I am not a tool and I am not a soldier. I will let no man or woman take that from me."

"I see your heart is set," Tsukiko sighed, bending down to nuzzle her. "Then you must be strong, little one. For I dearly wish to see you grow into the Alpha you are destined to be."

"I will be strong," Sansa promised, and she remembered that promise the next time she was facing Harada-sensei and he had just kicked her in the jaw hard enough that she had to spit out one of her teeth, blood bubbling over her lips and dripping down her chin. A second kick to the head had her staggering, moaning quietly as she fell to her knees. Her mind felt foggy and disjointed and she couldn't focus; her vision blurred, Harada-sensei swimming in and out of focus before her. 

Something, she thought distantly, was terribly wrong.

The sudden sensation of Kurama's chakra burning under her skin, flooding through her chakra pathways like wildfire took her by surprise. She gasped; half at the sensation and half at the way the world had abruptly sharpened back into focus again– revealing the sight of Harada-sensei backing away from her, a look of profound fear and loathing on his hateful face.

"Demon!" he spat, something wild and panicked about his eyes, and Sansa noticed too late the kunai in his hand.

She moved, stumbling up to her feet, but she wasn't fast enough to escape the sharpened steel that buried itself to its hilt in her tender belly. Sansa's breath caught, the shock stretching the moment of impact to a small eternity. And then she screamed, high and agonised, falling back to her hands and knees as pain spread like a rush of scorching heat throughout her entire abdomen. 

Naruto, who had been forced to watch her be beaten day after day, finally snapped. With a roar, fiery red chakra exploded out from his body, the air suddenly heavier as it twisted about him, oppressive and burning and malicious. Her brother dropped so he was crouching on all fours, snarling, then he lunged at Harada. Harada barely had time to scream before blood sprayed into the air and his body fell, like a puppet with its strings cut.

Naruto turned then to their classmates, eyes fire-bright and slit-pupiled, still crouched on all fours and baring his teeth. Sansa could see the ANBU cautiously approaching, ready to defend the frightened children, and it was only her fear for Naruto that had her pushing herself up so she was crouched on her haunches despite the agony she was in and meeting her brother's eyes. She bared her sharp teeth at him and growled, guttural and commanding. Naruto immediately whined, crawling over to her, and she let herself fall forward again, rubbing her cheek against Naruto's as Kurama's chakra sank back under his skin and he bared his throat to her.

With the threat gone, Tora was kneeling beside her in a heartbeat, his hand glowing green and pressing against her stomach where the kunai had torn apart her flesh, burying itself deep inside her. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, gently easing her into his arms.

"Not fucking good enough," Sansa choked through the agony, because it wasn't good enough. It wasn't. What did good intentions matter, when children were tortured while the adults stood back and did nothing? The pain seemed to be numbing under Tora's hand and Sansa, still hurting and unable to deal with the justifications, let her eyes slide shut.

When she next opened her eyes there was a stark-white ceiling above her. She wasn't in pain but she didn't recognise her surroundings either; it was almost like a hospital, except instead of a cot with white sheets she was restrained to a cold steel table so thoroughly she couldn't even turn her head. Sansa abruptly realised she was bare of any clothing and an old, well-learned fear shot through her, the fear of any maiden.

"Ah," a voice said, "you're awake." Slow footsteps approached the table and her terror was sour on Sansa's tongue. Finally, the speaker moved into her line of sight. It was a man; he was old, his right eye was bandaged, as was his right arm, and he held a cane. Everything about him appeared weak, frail; yet every instinct Sansa had screamed at her that this man was dangerous. He smiled down at her and her skin crawled. "My name is Shimura Danzo," he said calmly, as if there was nothing unusual about their situation. "I've been assigned the task of training you to be a shinobi."

Chapter Text

TWENTY-TWO:

Hiruzen smiled down at Naruto. The little golden-haired boy looked hesitant, constantly glancing to his side, where his sister usually stood. The guilt of his decision weighed him down as those bright blue eyes, the same colour as Minato’s, looked up at him from Naruto’s small face.

He hadn’t wanted to give Fuyuko-chan over to Danzo. But after the catastrophe that had been attempting to get her to attend the Academy, followed by the equally catastrophic attempt to have a Yamanaka perform a mind-jutsu on her while she was unconscious following her injury to help… change her mind on the matter, only for the shinobi’s consciousness to be torn apart by the Kyuubi that lurked inside Fuyuko’s mind, impossible though that should be, he hadn’t had a choice. Fuyuko had to train as a shinobi and Danzo’s methods may be… questionable, at best, but they were effective.

“Um… Hokage-sama,” Naruto said shyly, and Hiruzen interrupted him.

“Naruto-kun, please… I like to think we’re friends now,” he said, smiling warmly down at his successor’s son. “Why don’t you call me ojiisan? Or jiji?”

Naruto’s blue eyes widened. “Really?” he asked softly and Hiruzen nodded.

“Really,” he said warmly and Naruto smiled tentatively up at him.

“Ojiisan… when will Ko-ane be coming home?” he asked. “It’s lonely without her.”

The surge of guilt the little boy’s innocent question prompted made Hiruzen feel like the monster he knew he was, the monster he had to be for the good of Konoha. He let none of his turmoil show on his face, however, and instead smiled gently down at Naruto.

“Well, she was hurt very badly,” he told Naruto, “so badly that she can’t have any visitors for a little while, like the med-nin told you. But hopefully soon, she’ll get better.”

Naruto’s lip wobbled as tears welled up in his eyes. “I miss her,” he whispered and Hiruzen’s heart ached for the boy.

“How about we go get some dinner together?” he suggested, hoping to cheer the poor boy up. Naruto’s small face brightened.

“Can we get ramen?” he asked excitedly and Hiruzen chuckled, thinking of a certain red-haired kunoichi who had also loved ramen.

“Of course,” he said warmly, bending over to pick Naruto up.

“Ojiisan,” Naruto asked as Hiruzen exited his office and started to make his way through the Hokage Tower, nodding to all his staff who bowed to him as he passed, “why do you wear such a funny hat?”

Hiruzen couldn’t help but laugh. “This funny hat is a symbol of the Hokage,” he said, “it means I was chosen by the people of Konoha to uphold the Will of Fire in the village.”

“Ko-ane said only the really strong shinobi get to decide who the Hokage is,” Naruto said with a small frown. “Not the villagers.”

Fuyuko had said that, had she? That was… a concerning belief system, if perhaps a bit too accurate. But Danzo could help correct such thinking.

“Do you know what the Will of Fire is, Naruto?” he asked the more easily guided of the twins.

“H-Harada-sensei said it was a fa-falsy?” Naruto tried, stumbling over the name of the man whose throat he had ripped out in defence of his sister.

“Philosophy,” Hiruzen corrected gently. “The Will of Fire tells us that Konoha is a family and that every shinobi of Konoha loves, believes in, cherishes and fights to protect the village, as the previous generations have done before them. Just as your parents did. That is why the symbol our shinobi wear is a flame.”

Naruto looked awed. “Whoa,” he breathed, hushed, and Hiruzen smiled kindly.

“Whoa, indeed.” He agreed. “That’s why it is an honour for me to wear this ‘funny’ hat.”

“Ojiisan,” Naruto said slowly, “I think… I think I wanna be Hokage one day too. ‘Cause then Konoha would be mine and Ko-ane’s family, so then they would love us and wouldn’t hate us anymore.”

Hiruzen didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. “Oh Naruto-kun,” he said, “I think you’d make a wonderful Hokage. But you’ll have to train hard to become a strong shinobi if you want to be a Kage.”

“I will,” Naruto said determinedly. “I’ll be the strongest, dattebayo!”

“I believe you,” Hiruzen promised.

~

Sansa wasn’t sure what to expect from her captors. Torture, perhaps? What she wasn’t expecting was for medics in blank ANBU-style masks to come in and take samples of tissue, blood, saliva, hair and fingernails, along with analysing her chakra system and scanning her body.

She had felt less violated when Grand Maester Pycelle had checked to see if her maidenhead was intact then she did as these people took and took from her, as if she was an object who had no agency over her own body. She had tried to channel her chakra only for it to feel like raw lighting was crackling through her body and one of the medics sharply reprimanded her. “You have suppression seals inked on your skin, Uzumaki-san,” they said, “attempting to use chakra is useless and will only cause you pain.”

A single further attempt, this time using Kurama's chakra, proved that the medic was right and Sansa was left laying there helplessly, all the while feeling Shimura’s eyes on her. Knowing he was watching, she forced herself to remain silent and keep her face passive throughout the humiliating ordeal. The only time her mask came close to cracking was when one of the medics sheared off her hair, her lovely hair, the hair that reminded her of her mothers, her brothers, her son, but she bit her tongue and her rage tasted like iron.

As her bare scalp prickled, Sansa remembered Cersei’s infamous Walk of Shame. How they had stripped the Golden Queen and shaved her, just as Shimura had done Sansa. Cersei had ruined them all for the humiliation they had dared make her suffer, had destroyed them so thoroughly she’d left nothing but ashes and rubble behind. Sansa vowed to herself, in that moment, that like Cersei she would destroy Shimura for the humiliations he had forced her to bear and the wolf in her soul howled its fervent agreement.

It wasn’t until the last medic retreated that Shimura approached her again. “The reports from the Academy describe you as defiant and unwilling to engage in the classes,” he said, mild as mother’s milk. “Are you, perhaps, willing to reconsider your stance?”

Sansa stayed silent, not trusting herself to speak. Not trusting what she might say.

Shimura sighed. “A shame,” he said. “I would much rather have done this the easy way.” He then smiled. “The Academy reports say that you have an excellent pain tolerance. Of course, my people are much better at applying pain then a chuunin hired to teach children to throw kunai at a post, but I’ve never been fond of such clumsy, brutal measures. They lack finesse, don’t you think?”

Sansa still did not reply, remaining silent. Shimura chuckled.

“So stubborn,” he said. “I can appreciate stubborn. Just so long as you know where to direct that stubbornness.” Sansa’s skin crawled as Shimura stroked his hand over her face. “Have you ever heard of kintsugi?” Sansa continued her silence, but Shimura didn’t appear to be expecting a reply. “It’s a form of art,” he explained to her. “When an object such as a vase or a bowl falls and breaks into a thousand pieces, instead of discarding it as broken, a precious metal such as liquid gold, liquid silver or a lacquer dusted with powdered gold is used to glue the fragments together, enhancing the breaks to create a piece of artwork. A masterpiece. I can make you into a masterpiece,” he said, no doubt in his voice. “But first, I need to break you.”

Sansa couldn’t help her shudder, a dark panic clawing at her more rational mind. There was a despicable art to breaking people, she knew. Ramsay had been a master of that art, of breaking people and moulding them to suit his needs and desires, twisting their minds, shattering their sanity and making himself their entire world. Sansa’s mind was her greatest weapon, the idea of having it turned against her… she did not think any violence Shimura could have threatened her with could have terrified her worse.

She didn’t see Shimura make a gesture, but two blank-masked shinobi appeared at his side and Sansa was, at last, released from the metal table. The two shinobi held her by her wrists, forcefully escorting her after Shimura who led the way out of the hospital-like room. They were underground, she vaguely noted, as she was forced to walk through dark, winding corridors. Glancing down at her bare body, she was able to see the seals the medic-nin had told her about, dark and ugly against her pale skin, and it made her shudder.

She was almost relieved when they arrived at their destination, having barely been able to keep up with the long strides of her escorts. It was a small, cold room, bare of furniture bar for the restraints; just white walls, white floors, and a white roof. Inside, she was forced to her knees by the blank-masked shinobi and her arms chained above her head while her ankles were secured to a metal ring set in the floor.

The position was not unbearable but it was uncomfortable and she hated how it forced her to kneel before Shimura. He had done his best to strip her of her identity, her dignity, her pride, but she lifted her chin high and met his eyes, regal and icy-cool; this was his shame to bear, not hers.

“You will not break me,” she told him.

“Everybody breaks,” Shimura said, almost kindly, before turning and leaving, the blank-masked shinobi following after him.

The sound of door of the cell closing behind them had a terrible sort of finality to it.

Sansa immediately reached for Kurama, falling back into her mindscape. Finally out from under the weight of Shimura’s stare, she felt her breath start to come quick and shallow and she stumbled over to the cage of weirwoods, slipping through the branches without thought to press herself against the closest part of Kurama– one of their tails, as it turned out. The fur felt just as she remembered, like hot, crackling flames that licked at her skin in little simmers, but there was no pain; it was like being kissed by fire, she thought distantly, remembering Tormund’s epithet for her. His Queen Kissed By Fire, he had called her.

Kurama had gone very still, Sansa belatedly realised. Stepping into the cage was probably not something she was supposed to do– or at least not something she was expected to do. But she counted Kurama as among her friends and she dearly needed the comfort they offered after such a harrowing experience– one that wasn’t over yet.

“Truly, I have never met another like you, little vixen,” Kurama finally rumbled, gently lowering themselves down and curving their large form around her tiny one. Sansa leaned into them and let herself feel safe, protected; Kurama made a huffing sound. “To seek comfort from a Tailed Beast…” they said, in a way that was almost amused.

“It is humans who are true beasts,” Sansa said bitterly.

“Yes they are,” Kurama agreed before sighing. “But you should wake her,” they said, the disgruntlement clear in their tone. “She knows more about this pathetic village and its shinobi then I. She may be of use.”

Sansa reluctantly rose to her feet, less then eager to leave the protection offered by Kurama. But they were right and she slipped out from between the branches of the weirwoods, channelling her chakra to manifest the seals that made up the mindscape, including Mito’s seal. For a terrifying moment, she feared she would be unable to access her chakra, but within the mindscape her chakra rose easily to her call, the ocean currents flowing easily around her.

Mito appeared in a flash of blinding light, as she always did, and her eyes widened before a terrible anger settled over the other woman’s face, a rage as fierce and endless as the ocean itself. “What happened?” she demanded as she swiftly unfastened the obi from her kimono, kneeling to drape it around Sansa’s thin shoulders, tucking it around her small, bare form like an over-large shawl. “Fuyuko-chan, what happened to you?”

“A man who wishes to strip me of my identity happened to me,” Sansa snarled, more wolf than woman. “He wishes to break me, to shape me in an image of his choosing– to turn me into his masterpiece.”

“Who is he? What is his name?” Mito demanded, her lovely face a mask of rage, even as her hands held Sansa so delicately.

“He introduced himself as Shimura Danzo,” Sansa said bitterly, swaying forward into Mito’s soft touch.

Mito went very still.

“I know him,” she said quietly, and there was an emotion lacing her voice that Sansa could not quite identify. “He was one of Tobirama’s students.”

“The Nidaime Hokage?” Sansa queried. “Your good-brother?”

“Yes,” Mito confirmed, and there was an old, heavy grief in her eyes as she spoke of her husband’s brother. “Tobirama was Hokage for sixteen years. He did what he could for this village with the mess left for him. Hashirama spoke loudly and to all who would listen of peace as he brought together the warring clans into villages and handed out the Bijuu as supposed balances of power, but he only ever escalated the size of the battles– and the number of the dead.”

Sansa made a harsh noise. “What could he have possibly been expecting? How could he presume there to be no more fighting when the main source of income for the village he built, the others were modeled after, is dependent on violence?” She asked scornfully. “Konoha’s economy is built on corpses, not peace, and for as long as it trains its children to kill, first and foremost, it will continue to turn to war as its first option.”

“If Danzo had his way,” Mito said softly, “Konoha would always turn to war as her first option.”

And Sansa finally recognised the emotion lacing Mito’s voice as she spoke of Shimura Danzo– hatred.

“After Tobirama’s death,” Mito said, her eyes stormy with loathing, “Danzo approached the Council of Clans with the idea to create a branch of Black Ops that went beyond ANBU. The Elite of the Elite, he called it. Hiruzen approved, of course, and Danzo personally oversaw the creation and training of what would become known as Root. His methods were... effective. And inhuman. He stripped the humanity from his operatives to create perfect soldiers.”

“And this is the man the Hokage has given me to,” Sansa breathed, and a sudden, terrible fear struck her. “Naruto–” she said urgently. “Mito, do you think he has Naruto too?” The thought of her brother bound like her, in chains, tortured; it terrified Sansa beyond any other threat Shimura could possibly hold over her.

“I don’t believe so,” Mito soothed her, her gentle hands reaching to cradle Sansa’s face. “You said Naruto was compliant, that he followed the Academy curriculum?”

“He did, I made sure of it,” Sansa confirmed.

“Then there is no reason that he would be here.” Mito said firmly and Sansa breathed out slowly, letting her panic slowly ebb as Mito's hands lowered to her shoulders.

“Tell me about him,” she said. “Tell me about Shimura Danzo.”

“He is obsessed with making Konoha the strongest of the Hidden Villages,” Mito told her. “To the point that he believes his own opinion of what makes a village strong holds greater weight than that of any other person or group of people. And he is willing to go to whatever lengths it takes to realise his goals.” She paused, her jaw tightening. “While I could never confirm it,” she said coldly, “I suspect he murdered a dear friend of mine, Uchiha Kagami. Kagami was one of Tobirama’s students– and one of Danzo’s teammates. They were on a mission together and Danzo claimed they were ambushed.”

“But you don’t believe his story,” Sansa observed and Mito smiled bitterly.

“On the previous mission, Kagami witnessed his wife, Masa, die. It awakened his Mangekyo Sharingan– something only myself and his old team were aware of, Danzo included. Kagami was not close to his clan, you see– his friendship with Tobirama put him at odds with many of them, as did his choice to put the good of the village over the good of his Clan.”

“What is a Mangekyo Sharingan?” Sansa asked, confused. “And, pardon me for asking, but if it was such a secret, why did this Kagami tell you?”

“A Mangekyo Sharingan is an evolution of the Uchiha's Sharingan,” Mito explained, “it is far more powerful, but comes at the heavy cost of eventual blindness. And as for why Kagami told me…” Mito gave a small, pained smile. “He and Tobirama were very close, you see, and he was such a dutiful young man. After Tobirama’s death he kept checking in on me, making sure I was okay. We grew… close. In our sorrow, we formed a friendship built on an understanding of the particular grief we shared.”

Sansa thought to ask after her suspicions of the particular grief Mito referred to, then decided against it. Sometimes it was better for such truths to remain buried in memories. Instead, she focused on the more imminently concerning part of Mito’s story. “What does Kagami’s Mangekyo Sharingan have to do with your suspicions about Shimura lying about the ambush?” she asked and Mito smiled grimly.

“Did you know,” she said, “that Sharingan can be stolen? Danzo lost his right eye in that ambush. And Kagami’s body was never fully recovered.”

Sansa stared, sickened. “Oh Mito-obasan,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“His daughter, Manami, was only five years old,” Mito said quietly. “She lost both her parents within a month. I held her at Kagami’s funeral as she sobbed like her heart was breaking to pieces while Danzo stood across from me, with those bandages hiding his eye, as if he had any right to be there when his hands were stained with Kagami’s blood.”

Sansa felt numb, almost, as she looked helplessly up at Mito. “He will never let me go, will he?” she said, despairing. “Even if, by some miracle, I manage to escape here… a man like that, there is nowhere in Konoha that I will be safe from him.”

“Then the path before us is clear,” Mito said calmly. “We must kill him.”

~

Chapter Text

A/N: Just a heads up, there's a mix of tv canon and book canon in this chapter :)

TWENTY-THREE:

Sansa wasn't sure how long Shimura left her in the white room, depriving her of food and water in order to confuse and weaken her, to shift her resolve, to make her compliant. She only knew it must be days. The lighting never changed from bright and glaring and she lagged in her restraints, feeling the painful ache of them. She had been forced to void her bladder many hours back and the humiliation of it still burned, despite the relief it had brought. She was just grateful her recent lack of appetite meant she had yet to feel the urge to defecate.

She retreated to her mindscape when she could, but it grew harder to focus as the hours passed and time began to warp and stretch around her. She quickly grew confused and disorientated as the shakiness of exhaustion set in, her eyelids fluttering, her eyes unable to focus, yet with the terrible thirst and every shift in position causing her arms to scream in agony, she found true rest impossible to reach.

Even when she managed to focus enough to retreat to her mindscape, she felt little better. At least Mito's hands were cool against her fevered forehead as she lay slumped against her ancestress, eyes closed and breathing shallow. Something in Sansa felt as if it were fraying apart, like the threads of a tapestry unraveling. The uncertainty, the fear, it was everywhere. It had sunk deep into her blood and bone and she felt as if she would never be free of it again.

"Do you think I'm going to die here?" She asked softly, blinking tiredly up at Mito. Mito smoothed her hand over Sansa's forehead again, her eyes dark and deadly as any ocean storm, while Kurama snarled and paced furiously.

"You will not," she said, and Sansa could hear the echoes of the princess, the ruler, she had once been in her voice.

"That's good," Sansa said with a quiet sigh, letting her eyes close again. "I don't want to die again. It hurt so much."

"I'm so sorry, angelfish," Mito said wretchedly.

"That's why nothing he can do will truly break me," Sansa told her, told them both. "Because nothing he can do can hurt as much as dying."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mito asked gently, running her hand through Sansa's hair in a soothing motion. Sansa sighed.

"I really ought to," she murmured. "I haven't yet." She sighed again. "It's a long story. But I suppose we do have the time." She sighed again, closing her eyes. "It's a story that starts when I was still young, barely a woman grown," she murmured, "and the Others, these terrifying beings with eyes bright as blue stars, led by the most powerful among them, the one known as the Night King, rose an army of the dead to destroy the living. We fought the Night King and his army and after a long, difficult battle, in which heavy losses were sustained, my sister slew the Night King, destroying the magic that kept the dead fighting, and we thought that the end.

"We thought, with the Night King's death, the threat was gone. We could not imagine a more terrible foe than the one we had already defeated. But we were wrong. For all that we had feared the Night King and the army of wights he and the Others created... we had never stopped to consider who had created them.*

"The Great Other was an enemy beyond our comprehension," Sansa whispered, face drawn tight in remembered horror. "He was a god and we were but mortals before Him. With all the dragons dead, what chance did our armies have? We knew so little about this Great Other, but for what Melisandre, the Red Priestess, could tell us. That there was once a pair of brothers; R'hllor and a name lost in history, a brother we know only as the Great Other. Melisandre claimed They weren't of our world at all, that They had come from the skies in a falling star of ice and fire and in the crater where They landed, far beyond where the Wall would one day be built, the first heart-tree grew. The Children of the Forest called it the God Tree, worshipping it and taking its seeds to plant across the land what would become known as weirwoods.

"But while R'hllor left to explore the new world, the Great Other stayed by the God Tree, taking its power for Himself, growing dark and corrupted until He was reborn as R'hllor's immortal enemy. Melisandre told us how the Great Other created the Others to be His soldiers, how the Night King led His armies and how He would drain all life from our land until nothing but cold, darkness and death remained. Something had to be done... and so I stepped forth.

"There is a certain power in King's Blood when it is sacrificed, you see. And there is even more power in Queen's Blood. I forbade my children to watch, but they refused to honour my request. I still don't know if I'm more proud or furious. It was... not a quick death, you see. But I ascended my pyre willingly, with my head held high, and I burned for my children, for my loved ones, for the North, and for Westeros. I burned." Tears trickled down Sansa's face. "I burned and my blood sacrifice called forth R'hllor the Red God, Lord of Light, Heart of Fire, and empowered Him to strike down the Great Other.

"And when the Great Other was but ash in the wind, R'hllor approached what little remained of me, still clinging to life, and reached through the flames to place His hand over the charred skin under which my heart still beat, and pressed down hard."

Sansa closed her eyes, remembering that final burst of agony, that final gasping breath that was ragged but alive and real, and then the terrible, terrible hollowness. She remembered the spill of hot, wet blood that sizzled up as soon as it gushed from the cavity in her chest, remembered being unable to move, to even draw breath, her blurred, rapidly fading vision just clear enough for her to witness the god lift the wet, still muscle of her heart now clenched in His hand, and then—

—Death reached out and she stepped into Their embrace.

It had been a mercy, she knew. But the gods were so cruel in their mercy.

"Oh sweet girl," Mito whispered, tears glittering in her eyes, "you are so brave."

"We make sacrifices for the ones we love," Sansa said softly, the painful truth one carved into her very soul. Mito bowed her head, unable to argue.

"You said the Children of the Forest called the first heart-tree the God Tree," Kurama said suddenly.

"I– yes?" Sansa said, confused, blinking over at Kurama. They swished their tails agitatedly. Sansa was gratified to see that at least Mito looked just as confused by Kurama's reaction.

"You need a different approach with Shimura," Kurama said suddenly, with no explanation for the abrupt change in direction from their previous question. Sansa wanted to push, she wanted answers, but she knew to bide her time– answers could come later, when their situation wasn't so dire.

"Kitsune are foxes," Kurama told her and smiled; all sharp, terrible fangs, and dripping crimson. "We are tricksters, liars, seductresses. You may be a wolf, but you are a vixen too. Shimura believes he can break you? Then let him believe it. Let him see you shatter to pieces and let him bear witness to himself piecing you back together in an image of his own choosing. Let him see exactly what it is he wants to see, just as the kitsune who wears the guise of a fair maiden does, hiding her tails beneath her silks so as to steal the wisdom of men through her kiss."

"I know how to bend without breaking," Sansa said quietly, for that was a lesson hard-earned as she knelt before Joffrey's throne, her dress torn as the flat of Meryn Trant's sword struck the bare flesh of her back and she wept her tears of rage, "but how will that help me? I may be a vixen, but I am a vixen caught in a snare."

"That is where I can be useful," Mito said, her hands still stroking over Sansa's scalp, so achingly bare, "I can teach you the counter-seals to those they have inked on your skin. Seals formed by pure chakra will always be stronger than those written with ink and if you can shape the counter-seal to each chakra-restricting seal under your skin simultaneously, you can disable them."

Sansa looked up at Mito aghast. "You have only had me practice forming a single simple seal under the tenketsu points on my palms," she said, horrified. "To form so many counter-seals at once– it is impossible!"

Mito leaned down closer to Sansa, her eyes flashing.  

"You are an Uzumaki," she said fiercely. "Sealing is your lifeblood– nothing is impossible!"

In the face of Mito's conviction, Sansa took a deep breath. "Yes," she said, thinking of how right it had always felt, twisting the currents under her skin, "yes, you are right."

Mito smiled, sharp and sly– fox-like, even. "And there is another seal I will teach you," she said, "one created by a cousin– it's a clever little thing, one that I think you'll find quite useful."

"Oh?" Sansa asked, wary of her ancestress's expression.

"Yes," Mito said, fox-like smile widening, "she called it an assassination seal. Just like a kitsune, stealing wisdom with a kiss, all you need to do is get close enough for one touch."

"One touch," Sansa murmured. "I can do that."

All she needed was to destroy the seals on her skin. And to do that, she needed time and focus– she needed to bend.

~

Naruto knew something was wrong. He wasn't smart like Ko-ane (who sometimes liked to be called Sansa, but that was a secret, like their special language that only they could speak) but that didn't mean he was stupid. Hokage-ojiisan had bought Naruto lots of yummy ramen, which was much nicer than the rice Naruto had tried to cook himself, and he had a nice, warm wrinkly face, but Ko-ane always told him to 'look beneath the skin' and Hokahe-ojiisan was a liar.

Ko-ane had been hurt before. She'd had to go to the hospital before too. But they'd never stopped him from seeing her when she was in the hospital, and he knew she healed just as fast as he did. Something was wrong, something to do with why Hokage-ojiisan had told Harada-sensei to hurt Ko-ane because she said she didn't want to be a shinobi, and he was scared.

Naruto shuddered at the thought of Harada-sensei. He had hated the man, had hated how he made Ko-ane stink of pain and blood and fury, but the memory of the burning red haze and how the man's throat had torn like wet paper under his claws made Naruto want to be sick. He desperately wanted Ko-ane to hug him and tell him it was okay and he wanted Ka-ane to wrap her arms around them both, so they could snuggle together, safe and warm, but his sisters were gone and he wanted them back. 

He hadn't felt warm since Ko-ane had been taken. Even when he'd dragged all her dresses and her blanket into a nest on his sleeping mat, he just felt cold and lonely. Nobody at the Academy would talk to him either. ANBU were still taking him there every day, though he'd been moved to a different class with a lady sensei who kept hitting his hands with a ruler when his kanji were 'too messy' and singling him out for answers he never had which made the class laugh at him, but his new classmates stayed away from him, except during sparring practice where they did their best to beat him into the ground.

It was that loneliness, that desperation to do something to try and find Ko-ane, that drove him to taking action on the fifth day without her, without his second half.

As he made his way deeper into the neighbourhood Ko-ane had called the Yūkaku, Naruto nervously made sure to keep his eyes open for danger. At one point a man looked a little too interested in him, but when he stepped closer Naruto bared his teeth, letting the burning red haze rise up like it had with Harada-sensei and snarled, the sound guttural and not at all playful like when he was with Ko-ane. The man blanched, paling and backing away, letting Naruto hurry off.

The pretty building that Ko-ane had taken them to the night Kazumi-obaasan had made them leave the orphanage was even prettier in the daylight and Naruto nervously skirted around the side, down the alley Ko-ane had taken them down and after looking up at the door and biting his lip until it bled, anxious and unsure, he quickly knocked.

The really, really pretty lady with the long dark hair and the falling-off dress answered the door. "Oh hello darling," she said in her soft, breathy voice, her red-painted lips curling up at the sides. "Are you here for Tama-chan?" Naruto nodded shyly up at her and she bent over, her dress sliding off even further, and ran her the tips of her fingers lightly over his cheek. "Come in, then, darling," she murmured, "we'll go find her, ne?"

Naruto hesitantly followed her inside, anxious and not quite sure why. She took him up the stairs to a familiar room, the same one he and Ko-ane had stayed the night with Tama-neechan and her kaasan. The pretty lady knocked lightly on the door and Tama-neechan opened it.

"Kotone-san," she said, surprised, before looking down at Naruto and frowning. "What're ya doin' here, kid?"

"Um," he glanced nervously at Kotone who smiled at him again.

"Ah, I see that I'm not wanted," she said playfully. "I'll take my leave, Naru-chan."

Naruto blushed at the nickname as she bent over again and stroked his cheek before straightening and gliding off.

Tama-neechan waited for her to leave before turning back to him, still frowning. "Where's ya sister?" she demanded and Naruto felt the tears well up in his eyes.

"I dunno," he said miserably. "They took her away an' won't let me see her. They say she's sick, but every other time she got hurt, they let me visit her. They're liars."

Tama-neechan pressed her lips together. "Ninja lie," she said darkly. "And kids like us go missin' all the time. But we'll look out for her, 'kay? I promise."

Naruto sniffed and nodded. Tama-neechan's face softened. "You got anyone else?" she asked gently. He shook his head.

"I'm alone," he said tearfully and she sighed.

"I'll make some introductions, 'kay?" she said. "Some boys I know, they won't mind another set of hands ta help 'em run a con. Ya up for that?"

Naruto wasn't sure what a 'con' was but he nodded anyway and Tama-neechan smiled.

"C'mon kid," she said, holding out her hand, and Naruto wiped away his tears, reached out to accept her hand and followed after her.

~

*The Great Other, also known as the Lord of Darkness, the Soul of Ice, and the God of Night and Terror, is the god of darkness, cold, and death in the faith of R'hllor. All forces of darkness, cold, and death are believed to be only servants to the Great Other. Melisandre refers to the Others as the "cold children" of the Great Other. So basically, I gave the Others the book origin story in this fic, rather than the TV show canon that they were created by the Children of the Forest

Chapter Text

TWENTY-FOUR:

Sansa didn’t remember when they came back for her. Her grasp on her surroundings, on her very reality, was too uncertain; indeterminate shapes danced at the edges of her vision, whispers murmured in her ears, and her thoughts had long since swirled together in ever-shifting eddies. She only knew that when she woke, really woke, she was restrained on the cold steel table again and she couldn’t help the hot, relieved tears that seeped down her chilled skin.

“Good morning,” Shimura greeted her, stepping into her limited range of sight. Sansa wanted to be angry, wanted to feel a burning rage and icy hate, but she was too exhausted. Her skin felt stretched taut over frail bone, like one touch would cause it, cause her, to shatter; she felt fragile in a way she despised but could not deny, not to herself, and instead she let her emotions simmer, let them rest under her skin just out of reach.

Oh, she had enough anger in her yet to feel the urge to bare her teeth, to close her eyes and refuse to acknowledge Shimura’s presence, to defy him with what little strength and ability she had left– she was not that far gone. But she remembered the plan she, Kurama and Mito had made, before the lack of water, food and sleep had clawed at her sanity, leaving her mindless and hallucinating in that white-washed room. And so, she forced her pride back, folding it down, muzzling herself and bowing her head to Shimura as she once had to the bastard King on the Iron Throne.

“...good morning,” she said quietly, her voice rasping over the syllables, as if she had been screaming and screaming on an increasingly-raw throat. Maybe she had. The hallucinations were difficult to recall, but she vaguely remembered bright, burning eyes, like blue stars... she did not doubt she would have screamed, recalling His face.

Shimura’s eye glinted with satisfaction above her and Sansa felt as if she would be sick, her empty stomach churning violently.

Let him be satisfied, she thought, as he took her meekness for submission, her compliance for defeat. Let him be satisfied; one day, I will tear from him everything he has ever worked for, I will destroy all it is he loves.

Let him think he has won. He could not be further from the truth.

“Do you know,” Shimura said to her conversationally, “what it is I first train out of my operatives?”

“No,” Sansa said, her voice still quiet, still raspy.

“Most would assume humanity,” Shimura told her. “After all, my Root operatives are responsible for carrying out the very darkest of missions, those so terrible that even ANBU operatives would hesitate. We are the unseen roots who support the great tree of Konoha from the depths of the earth. Love, empathy, grief… I train my operatives out of all of those fundamental characteristics of humanity, so they do not hesitate to act and do what must be done. But first and foremost, I train out the aggression. Because when everything else is stripped away, aggression still remains and what is left is nothing more than a feral animal.”

“And a feral animal is useless to you,” Sansa said, before she could think to stop herself. Shimura’s pleased smile had her regret her words.

“Do you know what impressed me the most about your time at the Academy?” he asked. She didn’t answer. He didn’t wait for one. “Your lack of aggression. Despite the prolonged torture of the beatings, you didn’t once react with aggression. Even after what would have been a fatal injury, were it not for your advanced healing, you did not react with aggression, but instead calculation as you acted to control the situation. Just as you did after the death of your friend from the orphanage. Just as you are now.”

Sansa was almost tempted to let out her rage in direct defiance of his words, but… as much as she hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. She had long-since learned how to control her anger; she had vowed never to be like Joffrey, like Daenerys, to be a monarch ruled by her emotions, by her aggression and pride, but to instead rule with wisdom and understanding and cool intellect.

If she could look Daenerys in the face and smile and trade false pleasantries, a conversation with Shimura was nothing.

“Aggression is useless,” she said, finally, because this time Shimura did seem to be waiting for an answer. “It shows a lack of control and weakness. It is exploitable.”

Shimura’s scars pulled as his smile widened. “Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, it is. But you… you are not weak, are you?”

Restrained to the steel table, her chakra bound under her skin, Sansa met Shimura’s gaze with her own, without hesitation. She may be chained, but a chain had not yet been forged that could not be broken. She would break her chains and she would break Shimura.

Whatever he saw in her eyes, Shimura’s own single eye burned with satisfaction. “Welcome,” he said, “to Root.”

~

A pair of shinobi in white masks freed Sansa from the steel table after Shimura left. These masks weren’t blank; instead, they were painted with stark crimson and black lines. One mask resembled some sort of bird, Sansa wasn’t sure which breed, while the other she thought was a pig– Buta. She was still bare, which she hadn’t actually noticed until she was handed a uniform and told to dress. She did, appreciative even of the shorts she had been given– she preferred skirts or dresses over shorts or the odd breeches of Konoha’s fashion, but she was far from ungrateful.

After dressing, Bird-mask and Buta escorted Sansa to a barracks, which was underground like the rest of the base. The room she was taken to was small; it had a single bunk, with a single pillow, sheet and thin-looking blanket. The bed was set in the wall and crafted of solid metal. Sansa didn’t try to fight as her wrists and ankles were bound to the frame of the bunk and the blanket tossed half over her by her masked escorts. She was too relieved to be on a proper mattress, and even as exhaustion sunk its claws deep into her mind, she knew what she needed to do before she could sleep.

Cut off from her chakra, she couldn’t summon one of her Pack, nor could they reverse-summon her, but warging needed no chakra and Sansa gladly closed her eyes, letting her mind drift from her body.

It was easy, finding her Lady. Her partner, her sister-of-her-soul, was such a bright beacon, her presence calling out to Sansa across the realms, and Sansa gladly answered. She entwined herself around Lady’s warm presence, basking in the love and possessiveness, and did her best to soothe the she-wolf’s agitation.

Sansa/mine/hurt?/where?

I’m okay now, just… chained, she admitted, not wanting to lie, and Lady snarled, sharp-toothed and guttural and wild as the spirits of her ancestors.

Where?/I will find you/I will free you! the she-wolf vowed, and Sansa pushed back;

Alarm/no/don’t/stay!

Why?/Free Sansa/mine!/never apart again!/you PROMISED nobody would take you from me! Lady protested, pacing, her/their claws digging into the loamy earth beneath her/their paws, agitation causing her/their fur to bristle.

I have a plan/I’m not in danger/caught in snare but not hurt… anymore…/NEED to stay/if I run, will always be running, won’t be able to stop running, Sansa explained. If she escaped without dealing with Shimura, she would always be running– he wouldn’t let her go. He had to be dead, for her to be free.

Lady snarled again, then whined in piteous understanding.

Don’t like/my Sansa/miss you, she whimpered.

Miss you too/love you/never want to be apart, Sansa curled around Lady’s bright presence, the silver-glow of her essence, and wished they could stay that close forever. She could feel Lady’s own desire echoed around her, mirroring her own.

“Sansa?”

Sansa/Lady jerked their head up just as Tsukiko bounded into the clearing, the stink of worry clinging to the older she-wolf.

“Sansa, what’s wrong? Why haven’t you visited?” Tsukiko demanded, bowing her head to nuzzle at their ears. Sansa/Lady whimpered and Sansa let the sorry tale spill out in a tumble of words. Tsukiko was furious by its conclusion.

“If I had the chance to tear Konoha to pieces, I’d do it in a heart-beat!” She snarled, lips pulled back to reveal razor-sharp fangs.

“Kurama would gladly join you,” Sansa said darkly. “…Mito too, probably. Though she might hesitate for the Nidaime’s sake. He loved the village, and she did love him. But she’s going to help me kill Shimura, no hesitation there.”

“Sakumo never trusted Shimura,” Tsukiko said darkly. “He always said there was something wrong about that man.” Her gleaming golden eyes narrowed. “He was involved in the briefing,” she said, low and rumbling and deadly, “Sakumo’s final mission briefing.”

“…you told me that Sakumo’s final mission started a war, did it not?” Sansa asked slowly.

“It did,” Tsukiko said.

“And Mito told me,” Sansa murmured, terrible suspicion settling over her, “that if Shimura had his way, Konoha would always turn to war as the first option.”

There was a moment of silence, of awful comprehension, and then Tsukiko roared her fury, the sound so thunderous that the ground and the trees of the forest around them shook. Sansa wasn’t sure she had ever witnessed such terrible and awe-inspiring rage as Tsukiko’s before her; the older she-wolf rent apart the clearing around them, raw chakra lashing out along with her claws to tear down trees and churn the earth.

She wasn’t surprised when Sayomi appeared, flanked by more wolves that Sansa had yet to be introduced to; the disturbance Tsukiko was creating was large enough it must surely be felt leagues out. And more than that, deeper than that, Tsukiko’s rage/grief/hate poured through that place deeper than heart, than soul, (Pack, Lady whispered to her, PackPackPack), where it resonates in Sansa’s/Lady’s own chest as a call to arms, a declaration of war.

Sansa explained the situation to the Alpha in quick, brief words– old wounds rent open by new suspicions and her own perilous circumstances– and Sayomi’s pale blue eyes glittered with her own icy rage.

“I was not as close to Sakumo as Tsukiko was, as his main summons,” she rumbled, “but he was still Pack. This man, Shimura Danzo, if he has done what you suspect, then his life is forfeit twice over– for his sins against Sakumo, and for his sins against you. Should the opportunity arise, summon any of the Pack and we will fight by your side against this man.”

Sansa dipped her/their muzzle as low as she/they could without baring her/their neck. “Thank you, Alpha.” She said and Sayomi curled her teeth back in the wolfish equivalent of a smile.

“You are welcome, little baby Alpha,” she said, “now– care for you Pack.”

Sansa hesitated, confused. “I’m… sorry?” she said. Sayomi gestured with her muzzle in Tsukiko’s direction.

“Your Pack,” she said, “you may be a baby Alpha, but you are still an Alpha and you have a responsibility to your Pack-mate in her time of need.”

Sansa’s/Lady’s eyes widened. “Tsukiko is your Pack-mate!” Sansa protested and Sayomi’s tongue lolled from her mouth in a very wolfish grin.

“Yes,” she agreed, “she is my Pack-mate. But I am not her Alpha, not truly. At a push, yes. But not in truth. Not in her soul. Now do your duty by her, baby Alpha.”

Sansa/Lady looked up at Sayomi with wide eyes, then over at the raging Tsukiko. How was she supposed to calm the older she-wolf? She/they barely even came up to Tsukiko’s elbows!

But… she remembered growling Naruto into submission when he was halfway lost in a Kurama-induced haze, remembered not needing to be stronger in body, only stronger in will. Standing tall, she recalled the first– and only– time she had truly howled; she summoned that feeling now, reaching deep inside herself, where she was entwined with Lady, to where she was claws and fangs and silvery moonlight, and she wove that moonlight around herself, in the centre of her being, and as one she and Lady tilted back their head and howled, ancient wolven song and guttural demand both, commanding her Pack take heed.

In the vague distance, she could hear Gin, Hayu, Katsu and Suki howl their own replies; closer, Tsukiko lowered herself from where she’d been tearing a massive oak with a trunk almost as thick as she was tall to the ground, turning to face Sansa/Lady, blinking her golden eyes in surprise.

Sansa/Lady made a more soothing sound, low and rumbling, almost a purr, loping over to nuzzle against Tsukiko until the tension began to ease from the older wolf. Sansa took note of Sayomi and her pack-mates melting back into the woods, and of Gin, Hayu, Katsu and Suki arriving, Lady’s littermates pressing up against their mother, offering her comfort, but most of her attention remained on the slowly-calming Tsukiko.

It seemed to take an age, but finally the last of the tension eased from Tsukiko’s bones. “I apologise for my outburst,” the older she-wolf rumbled, and Sansa/Lady licked Tsukiko’s muzzle.

“It happens to the best of us,” they assured her.

“I have… unresolved issues over Sakumo’s death,” Tsukiko admitted, somewhat redundantly. “And now… the thought of you, trapped with the man who may be responsible for taking him from me…” Tsukiko closed her eyes, as if in pain. “It is unbearable.”

“I will get our vengeance,” Sansa promised, “I will restore honour to Sakumo’s name, for our Pack.” She made a soft, huffing sound then, one of almost bitter-amusement. “I don’t imagine this was anything close to what my lord father had in mind when he named me,” she said, darkly amused. “No matter how aptly-chosen it turned out.”

“Oh?” Tsukiko said, head tilting in question.

“My name, ‘Sansa’,” she explained. “My lord father chose it for me. I was always so proud of it, when I was a little girl. It is an old Northern name, you see. One that fathers give daughters who they believe will bring honour to their families, for the first Sansa in our history books brought great honour to her family when she set aside the lowly knight that she loved to marry her half-uncle, as per the wishes of her father. I saw it as a sign, as a child… a sign that my father believed I was destined to bring great honour to our family.

“Now, I know he just knew Robert Baratheon would insist upon betrothing me to his son and he feared that another generation of Stark daughter would flee from her betrothal to a Baratheon son. He feared raising me a she-wolf, a second Lyanna, and so while he let my younger sister run freely, he allowed my lady mother to carve the North out from my bones, to raise me in Southron customs where a woman first and foremost serves and obeys the men in her life, so that Robert might finally have his Stark bride. He named me Sansa in hope that I would bring honour to our family by doing my duty and marrying the prince.

“And for all the good it did us in the end, I did my duty, for the sake of my family’s honour. Lady died for that honour, that duty. And I vow to you, Tsukiko, I will see the true culprits revealed and I will bring honour to our Pack, to Sakumo’s name.”

Tsukiko made a rumbling sound, a canine-equivalent to a cat’s purr. “I believe you,” she said, “Alpha.”

A/N: Exams are over! Uni is over! For a couple of weeks, anyway. FML. 

Chapter Text

Warning: the next few chapters are going to contain some disturbing themes – this is Root, after all. I will put warnings at the bottom of each chapter, if people want to scroll down to be prepared. Otherwise, enjoy!

TWENTY-FIVE:

Sansa didn’t want to leave the spirit realm. Parting from Lady felt as if she was ripping her very soul in half, leaving it weep and bleed, and as she blinked her way back into awareness in the small bunk-room, she had to turn her face against the pillow to hide her tears until sleep claimed her.

She was woken hours later by Buta, who unchained her from the bed and handed her a blank porcelain mask that she was ordered to put on. Sansa did as ordered and followed numbly after the shinobi as he led her out of the bunk-room and towards her immediate future.

Her first week in Root was spent being tested on her aptitude in basic fields of the ninja arts that did not require chakra and oh, Sansa loathed it all. Only the strategy and intelligence testing even approached bearable, for as she had not given away her ability to read or write the testing was verbal, requiring only her wit. The other tests were so wretchedly physical and Sansa hated them; she hated being forced to perform katas until she was dripping sweat and couldn’t lift her arms, to throw bladed weapons until her palms were ripped and bloodied, to run and run until she collapsed, to twist her body into wretched positions, rough hands yanking her limbs far past where they ought bend and holding them there as she blinked back tears.

The physicality was antithesis to who she was, to who she identified as, and it destroyed her piece by piece inside. It wasn’t like when Arya had taught her how to defend herself against an assassin coming at her with a knife, or when Tormund had taught her how to shoot a bow. Those were skills she had asked to learn, had chosen to be taught. These were forced upon her, with the purpose of breaking her down to reshape her into someone else’s image. Someone who Sansa wasn’t.

Root ran on sixteen-hour days and eight-hour nights and Sansa was always exhausted by the time she was allowed to retire to her bed, wrists and ankles bound to the bedframe, and rest. This left her with very limited time to spend making plans with Mito and Kurama or to practice shaping her chakra into seals under her skin. Despite Mito’s faith that she was capable of learning how to disable the seals that bound her chakra, Sansa wasn’t ignorant to just how far she was from accomplishing such a feat and how desperately she needed the practice– but when she was collapsing into her assigned bunk, body trembling and mind blurred with exhaustion, practicing sealing was the last thing she was capable of doing.

She would appeal to Buta or Washi– as she had learned bird-mask, or rather eagle-mask, was called– for leniency, but she doubted either knew the meaning of the word. She had seen livelier corpses then her two escorts-turned-“instructors”. They reminded her of the Unsullied; the pair were little better than slaves– no free will, no emotions, just mindless obedience. They were extensions of Shimura’s own will, without individual thought of their own. She would have as much luck appealing to a brick wall. At least they were not intentionally cruel, though that was little comfort when again and again she was reduced to silent tears by brutal demands of “Again!” as her body ached and her limbs trembled and her vision blurred.

And the sparring, oh the sparring! In some ways, Sansa thought, sparring might be worse than a beating. In a beating, pain was expected. In a beating, she could do nothing but endure. With sparring, there was that faint, flickering, insidious hope that maybe, just maybe, she could avoid the pain, the suffering, if she could just get the move right, if she could just react quickly enough, if she was just that little bit better. It was crueller, that hope. Because when she was left broken and bleeding on the floor, thankful at least that the binding seals did not interfere with Kurama’s chakra healing her internal injuries, the despair, defeat and agony was far more crushing then the ache and resignation following a beating.

Her days had been so full, Sansa didn’t even realise that it had been an entire week into her stay at Root until she was taken to meet Shimura again. The windowless, underground rooms and the strange sixteen-hour days and eight-hour nights made it hard to make sense of the passing of time, making it blend and blur in confusing patterns.

As she sat across from Shimura, exhausted, chakra bound, entire body aching, and at least one rib only halfway healed from broken, Sansa felt so much hatred for the man before her she almost choked on it. Still, she made sure to control her expression, smoothing her face into a mask of indifference. Shimura was beneath her; this was an inarguable truth that she held close to her heart, to comfort her and bring her strength to sit across from him and match wits with the monster.

“What do you think of your new comrades?” Shimura asked her conversationally, as if she was not his prisoner and he hadn’t tortured her with isolation and deprivation of food, water and sleep until she had folded and agreed to ‘willingly’ train as a shinobi under his command. As if her ‘comrades’ were not broken men and women without personality, freedom or individual thought of their own.

“I think you’re cruel,” she answered him honestly, as there was no need for lies between them.

“Because you’re soft,” Shimura told her and Sansa smiled at him, baring each of her sharp, white teeth.

“So is the fur of a wolf,” she said, “has no one ever warned you? Soft things can be dangerous too.”

Shimura actually chuckled, a spark of what appeared to be delight in his single, cold eye.

“Perhaps not so soft after all,” he conceded. “And I do understand that my actions may seem cruel to you. But everything I do, I do for Konoha. I am her most faithful servant.”

“But when you serve the kingdom at the cost of its people, can you truly say that the cost of your actions, the blood that soaks your hands, is just?” Sansa challenged him, despite knowing her words would be disregarded, for men and women like Shimura, so firm in their convictions that they were right and everyone else was wrong, would never be swayed, not even by their deaths.

Varys had been much like Shimura; he claimed he served the good of the realm, oh-so convinced that it was the Targaryens who should rule, blinding himself to three hundred years of blood and fire and conquest and madness, preaching instead of Kings and Queens of the people. He had fooled himself with his honeyed words; despite his convictions, neither he nor his Targaryen Queen had served the realm, or its people, more than any of the other high lords who played the game of thrones.

Sansa doubted Shimura was any different.

“Does not the strength of the village protect its people?” Shimura calmly rebutted her challenge.

“The people are the village,” Sansa countered in turn, “they are her strength. If you cripple her people, you cripple her.”

“And yet, Konoha is already crippled,” Shimura said. “Our reputation is one of weakness, of submission; the other villages look to us like predators who have caught sight of a rabbit trapped in a snare. We need to prove Konoha’s strength to keep the village– and her people– safe.” 

“How can Root prove Konoha's strength when it moves only in the shadows?” Sansa asked and Danzo's scars twisted and stretched as he smiled.

“Movements in the shadows can have great impacts,” he said, “and far reaching consequences. For there is one true way and proven way to demonstrate the absolute strength of a village in this world.”

“And how is it that?” Sansa asked.

“There is no better show of strength,” Danzo told her, “then victory in war.” 

Sansa immediately shook her head. “No,” she denied. “There is no benefit to war. To fight and conquer in all your battles is not a true show of strength; true strength is breaking your enemy's resistance without the need to engage in battle at all*.”

“An interesting perspective,” Shimura said. “But you are a child. What do you know of war?”

Sansa raised her small chin high. She knew more about war then this man ever would. For decades she had ruled a kingdom built on bloodied battlegrounds and ashes; her heritage was one of eight thousand years of Kings of Winter and their Queens whose land had known war and peace both; she knew war, and it haunted her dreams even now. But she also knew peace and that was why she knew Shimura’s ideals was fundamentally flawed.

“I understand that war costs more than lives,” she said. “It costs money and resources, while limiting trade and restricting import and export. Strength comes during peace, when economies can flourish, alliances can be forged and soldiers have a chance to learn and grow strong. Strength comes when resources and funding can be turned inward, towards making the kingdom prosper, rather than outward, toward making our enemies bleed.”

Shimura’s single eye bore into her own, and Sansa belatedly realised that there was prodigious intellect and there was debating the economics of trade during wartime at the tender age of four name-days. Nevertheless, there was no going back at this point, so she merely kept her chin raised high and gave Shimura a challenging look. He gave her a thoughtful, calculating one in return. She could almost see the ghost of Petyr Baelish and Tywin Lannister both in his cold eye, and someone else, someone new and just as dangerous.

“You will do well in Root,” Shimura said finally, and Sansa almost flinched as he reached under his desk, only instead of retrieving a weapon, he pulled out a mask of smooth porcelain painted boldly with black and crimson which he reached across to place in her small, thin hands. Sansa stared down at the mask in wide-eyed disbelief before looking back up at an unmistakably amused Shimura. “Congratulations,” He said, “Megitsune.”

Megitsune. Vixen.

Who knew Shimura had a sense of humour?

~

Now that she had a mask and a 'name', Sansa was moved from what she now assumed was the room for fresh recruits to her more permanent quarters. The new room contained two sets of double bunks, two sets of drawers, and, to Sansa’s surprise, bunkmates.

She was disgusted to realise that her new bunkmates were about as young as her body; one of the boys in the bunk opposite was around four name-days too and the other two, a boy also in the bunk opposite and the girl who shared Sansa’s bunk, were perhaps two or three years older. The girl wore a rabbit-mask, Usagi, while the younger boy wore a fish-carp-mask, Koi, and the older boy wore a bear-mask, Kuma. Sansa didn’t actually have time to trade pleasantries of any sort with her new bunkmates before Buta and Washi were marching them all to training. 

For any training exercises where she wasn’t paired against either Buta or Washi, Sansa was paired with Usagi. This wasn’t actually to any benefit to her– Usagi had clearly been training much longer then Sansa’s measly week and left Sansa on the floor spitting blood more often then she didn’t, but Sansa couldn’t find it within herself to resent the little girl in the rabbit-mask. That would be cruel. Usagi was trapped in a wretched situation and she genuinely did not know any differently.

It made Sansa sick.

Training with three others at least meant that Buta and Washi’s attentions were split between them and for the first time after returning to the bunk-room following the usual dinner of tasteless rice, steamed vegetables and plain-cooked meat and their hands and ankles were bound to the bed frames and the lights extinguished, leaving them in a blanketing darkness, Sansa for once wasn’t so exhausted that she immediately fell asleep.

Instead, she retreated to her mindscape, activating Mito’s seal to wake her ancestress before slipping through the weirwood branches to greet Kurama with a quick hug, breathing in the scent of fox-musk and pure-raw chakra. “Silly little vixen,” Kurama sighed, even as Mito groaned and muttered something undoubtedly unflattering about Sansa’s sanity under her breath. Sansa couldn’t help the way her smile hitched at Kurama’s nickname for her and they immediately snarled. “Don’t you dare give ownership of the name I gave you to that pitiful meat-sack!” They spat. “Do not ever forget that it was never his to give, it was already yours!”

“I will not forget, I promise you,” Sansa vowed, a weight lifting off her shoulders that she hadn’t even fully acknowledged until that moment. Kurama made a grumpy sound and shoved her towards the bars of their cage with a sweep of one of their tails. Sansa went along with the momentum of the push, slipping through the tangle of bone-white branches and into Mito’s welcoming arms.

“Oh my little seastar,” her ancestress said, warm and despairing both, and Sansa couldn’t help but laugh even as she leaned greedily into the embrace, not realising how starved she’d been of friendly touch until the moment it was offered. “How are you?” Mito asked gently and Sansa gave a weary laugh.

“Oh, I’m absolutely awful,” she said, “it turns out that Shimura may have sabotaged Hatake Sakumo’s final mission in some manner, so the wolf summons have tasked me with his death, something I already need if I ever want to be free to see Naruto again, but even if I manage to free my chakra, actually killing a shinobi who has managed to live as long as Shimura is not going to be a simple task. I’m going to have one real chance to take him by surprise, which means the assasination seal needs to be perfect, which means I need practice. At least I seem to have graduated from new recruit status to a mere lowly recruit, so I don’t have to deal with two instructors for just myself anymore and I actually have the energy for sealing practice for the first time since this nightmare began.”

“Well then,” Mito said, her eyes stormy with determination, “we best not waste this opportunity. Are you ready?”

“I am,” Sansa agreed, pulling back. “Let’s begin.”

~

Sansa didn’t actually get an opportunity to talk to Usagi, Koi or Kuma without either of the instructors around until nearly three weeks after she was first introduced to them. This was because after they were bound to their bunks, the lights in their bunk-room were extinguished and the three children would stay dead silent and Sansa would either sleep, turn her attention inward to her mindscape or warging, or practice shaping her chakra under her skin.

Kuma was the one who broke the pattern. It was after a day where Usagi, Koi and Kuma had been taught a basic clone jutsu by Washi while she was made to spar against Buta and after the lights were extinguished and Washi’s footsteps faded behind the closed door, the boy spoke up.

“Why didn’t they make you learn the clone jutsu?” He asked.

Sansa almost didn’t answer, she was so shocked at the sign of individuality in the form of the boy’s simple curiosity. Then she almost didn’t answer, because she wasn’t sure what the consequences for answering would be, if any of the Root operatives overheard them. Then, finally, she wondered if she had truly been beaten down so far, so quickly, that she would hesitate to make innocent conversation with a child, for fear of potential consequences. And so, she answered.

“They didn’t make me because I can’t use chakra externally to my body,” she explained, not bothering to simplify her words too much– from listening to how the instructors spoke to the three children, she knew that they were real prodigies, the way that she, as a reincarnated soul, was not.

“Why not?” Piped up the other boy, the younger one– Koi.

“Because they bound it,” she answered honestly.

“Why would they cripple their own asset?” Usagi asked, sounding confused. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes it does,” Kuma said softly, and Sansa was delighted to hear that the boy sounded intrigued.

Because he alone of the three children seemed to understand; for why else would they cripple their own asset, unless they were afraid?

Because they were afraid; they were afraid of what the abuse they called conditioning might release, and they were right to be afraid, for the destruction of a bijuu was a terrifying thing and Sansa planned to make each and every one of their fears come true.

~

*adaption from the quote “The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting” – Sun Tzu

Chapter Text

A/N: Look for warnings in the end-notes

TWENTY-SIX:

Sansa had actually enjoyed very little in her role as Queen of the North more than the banal necessity of the rote courtesies and formalities of the role. There was just something so steady and comforting about their predictability; the exchanges were so heavily scripted and dictated, the changes in roles and lines existing only in minutia. That was probably why, despite her hatred of the man, the part of Root she most enjoyed was her weekly meetings with Shimura– not that there was enough in Root to enjoy that there was actually any true competition.

Once a week, they would have tea in his office. One of his blank-masked shinobi, which Sansa now knew was somewhat akin to a status symbol representing the most elite of Root’s forces, would serve them and they would make simple conversation for around a half hour before slipping into a more pointed dialogue. It was the most intellectual stimulation she had that wasn’t related to Buta and Washi’s lessons on tactics and strategy, aside from the precious time she spent with Mito, though necessity dictated that the vast majority of that was focused on sealing.

Shimura– or Danzo-sama, as she had been invited to address him, no matter how slimy his name felt on her tongue– was an interesting conversationalist. He was a warmonger, of that there was no doubt, but he was also a very intelligent man and smooth conversationalist with a keen political acumen, a wealth of knowledge of history and a skill for teaching. If Sansa wasn’t the Queen that she was, she didn’t think she’d realise how skilfully he ‘guided’ their conversations, raising past scenarios of politics and warfare both and setting her loose on them.

She did wonder what his end goal was. It was clear that this attention he was giving her wasn’t standard for a member of Root. It encouraged far too much individual thought, for one, something which was viciously beaten out of the other ‘recruits’. And she didn’t think Usagi, Koi and Kuma had even met Danzo before, let alone sat down for tea with him and discussed the creation of the treaty to settle the border dispute between Fire Country and the Land of Hot Water. Though it was quite an interesting dispute, and she was impressed with the greater concessions the Fire Daimyo had managed to wrangle from the Hot Water Daimyo. The benefits of having a more established, threatening military power– and yes, she did see the message that Danzo was trying to get across to her there.

Sansa was mildly concerned that Danzo’s efforts to converse with her was his attempt to forge a bond between them, a loyalty, like Theon had formed with Ramsay after the bastard had broken him so badly. Captive bonding, the maesters called it. An emotional attachment formed by a prisoner to their captor as a result of persistent stress, dependence and the necessity to cooperate in order to survive. Sansa wondered if Danzo’s efforts might have worked, if she did not have Mito and Kurama in her mindscape, and her Pack a warg away. She even had glimpses of Naruto, when she warged into the wildlife of Konoha, though that was… emotionally difficult. Very emotionally difficult.

The first time she had glimpsed Naruto since the Hokage had handed her over to Danzo, she’d warged into a stray dog and had scratched at the door of their shared apartment and howled until she’d woken him up and he’d opened the door (not exactly behaviour she wanted to encourage, but she was desperate and the only time she could warg was at night).

The moment her brother opened the door, she had immediately jumped up on him, beyond relieved to see that Mito was right, that Danzo hadn’t touched him, that Naruto was safe, he was free. Naruto had giggled, delighted by the affectionate attentions of the ‘dog’, patting her happily and scratching her ears and wrapping his small, skinny arms around her in a hug.

She’d remained there for hours, going into the apartment and curling up onto Naruto’s bed-mat with him, deciding to lecture him later, when she was finally free, about letting dirty strays sleep on his clean bedding. For now, she was just overjoyed to be near him, to smell his Naruto-scent, to be surrounded by brotherbrotherbrother.

It wasn’t something she did often. Her heart couldn’t take it. But it reminded Sansa of what Danzo had ripped away from her, that despite the conversations they shared, despite the mask of congeniality he wore, he was no friend to her; he was the insidious, creeping frostbite, turning her fingers and toes numb so she wouldn’t realise the damage until it was too late and they were black and dead.

To fight Danzo being her only point of contact in Root, she made an effort to reach out to her bunkmates, but that was… difficult. Conversation between them after they were bound to the bed and the lights went out wasn’t forbidden, per say, but by unspoken rule it certainly wasn’t encouraged. And despite the fact they were prodigies, they were also young children who were being raised in an oppressive, radicalised environment that suppressed any individual autonomy from a very young age, and it was difficult to make conversation with them, Usagi and Koi in particular.

Kuma was easier for her to talk to in a way, but he was also harder because Kuma had the unfortunate habit of questioning things around them, and that worried Sansa because Root wasn’t an environment that encouraged any sort of freedom of thought. In fact, it actively discouraged it. 

Kuma was aware enough of that to be careful, but he was also a child and as a child, even a prodigious one, he was clumsy in his discretion. He was going to ask the wrong person the wrong question at the wrong time, and Sansa didn’t know what the consequences to that were going to be, but she knew enough to know they wouldn’t be good. She tried to steer his questioning and she tried to keep attention off him, but everything inevitably came to head as she knew it would.

She thought it might have been around three months into her oh-so lovely stay at Root that Kuma made the mistake of asking what he thought was an innocent question. “Why do we have to wear masks?” the little boy asked Buta during training one day, and Sansa froze as fear for him lashed through her. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if we knew what each other looked like?”

No, Sansa thought with dread, because then we’d know we were human, not just faceless tools for the village. And asking such questions... they’re going to make an example out of you, in front of the rest of us.

She couldn’t let that happen. Not if she could stop it.

She immediately stepped forward, desperate to try and distract the instructors from Kuma, knowing her efforts were likely useless but unable to just stand by and do nothing. “That was my question,” she said loudly. “I asked Kuma why we had to wear the masks. I said I didn’t want to. He’s just repeating my words. I don’t want to wear this stupid mask.”

And then she did the unthinkable– she pulled the mask from her face and tossed it aside, letting it clatter against the floor of the training room.

A terrible stillness settled over the training room, like the haunting calm before a blizzard. Sansa could feel the fear creeping over her, a chill seeping through her blood, right down to her very bones.

“Kuma, Megitsune, take off your clothes,” Buta ordered coldly and Sansa froze, her breath catching in her throat, tightening her lungs; nakedness was an old fear, but no less stale for it. It was all-consuming, a terror she didn’t think she could ever shake, not after suffering under the threat of rape for so many years in the Red Keep, not when she had been stripped before a jeering crowd of nobles so a knight could beat her with the flat of his sword and a bastard king could point a crossbow at her heart, not when a mob of filthy men had tried tearing off her dress so they could all fuck her, not when she had been raped over and over by a monster wearing the guise of a man.

When she didn’t move, couldn’t move, Washi moved forward to strip her. Sansa didn’t fight them. She didn’t fight Washi when they pushed her to the ground either, or when Usagi and Koi were made to hold her arms down, keeping Sansa’s body pressed to the floor as the whip Buta wielded struck her back.

The tail of the whip had glass embedded in it to rip and tear and Sansa almost passed out at the first flaming streak of fire made her scream, high-pitched and raw, but she didn’t start struggling until the third strike. At the sixth strike, she passed out and didn’t wake until she heard Kuma’s screams. She couldn’t move from where she had been left on the ground, barely had the strength to turn her neck to face Kuma. Usagi and Koi were holding him down as Buta whipped him, just as passionless and mechanic in his movements as he’d been when he’d whipped her. He clearly took no joy in his actions, felt no anger, no regret; somehow, that made it worse.

Sansa didn’t know how many times Kuma had been struck before she’d regained consciousness, but the boy’s screams abruptly cut off after she witnessed him receiving two strikes and Buta applied three more to his unconscious form before ordering Usagi and Koi to return to their training.

Kuma didn’t wake up and Sansa spent the next several hours in agony as the burning skin of her back slowly knit itself back together. She considered trying to inch her way over to Kuma, but she didn’t fancy opening herself to the possibility of additional punishment for showing evidence of humanity.

Eventually, Usagi, Koi and the instructors left. She and Kuma were left on the ground of the training room and Sansa waited a half hour before finally taking the chance to carefully stand. Her legs shook but she managed to walk over to Kuma, ignoring the agony that flared in her back, taking care not to agitate the half-healed wounds.

As she knelt beside the boy, she immediately noticed there were glass shards embedded in the wounds on his back and she cursed under her breath at the realisation that her own wounds might have healed around shards of glass. Frustrated and in pain, tears burned at her eyes as she carefully plucked the glass out of the deep gouges while Kuma was still unconscious. She could ask Kuma to return the favour later; there were kunai in the training room he could use to split open any fresh-healed skin.

After she was sure there was no glass left, she took a moment to fetch a kunai before she lifted Kuma, thankful for the strength that her Root training had given her, and, ignoring the blood seeping down her back from her half-healed wounds being split open anew from her actions, she started making her way slowly to the room with the showers.

The showers had only cold water, and she hated the thought that that might wake Kuma, who she’d prefer to leave unconscious, but she needed to wash out any remaining splinters too small for her eyes to see out of his wounds. Setting Kuma down on the tiled shower floor and leaned up against the wall, she turned the water on. She was unsurprised to see him start to stir and he began to cry as soon as the pain hit. “Shh, shh,” she soothed, kissing his forehead, even as she tugged him so the water was pouring onto his back. He struggled at first, shrieking out in pain, but she forced him to stay in that position and eventually he slumped forward, pressed against her, and she wrapped her arms around him and sang.

“High in the halls of the kings who are gone
Jenny would dance with her ghosts
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found
And the ones who had loved her the most

The ones who'd been gone for so very long
She couldn't remember their names
They spun her around on the damp old stones
Spun away all her sorrow and pain

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave”*

Kuma eventually stopped sobbing and Sansa picked up the kunai from where she had left it on the ground, just within arm’s reach. “I need you to cut the glass shards out of my back,” she said reluctantly and Kuma looked horrified.

“Megitsune, no!” He hissed, and Sansa leaned forward so her mouth was pressed over his ear.

“Fuyuko,” she breathed, her voice so low it was barely even a whisper. “My name is Uzumaki Fuyuko.”

And Kuma... Kuma went very still, before leaning forwards slightly, turning his own head so his lips were pressed to her ear. “Shin.” He breathed, and his voice trembled slightly. “I am Shin.”

“Shin," Sansa murmured, almost reverent, before pleading again. "Shin, please. I am sorry to ask this of you, I am so, so sorry, but I have to get this glass out of me before the skin heals over it completely. Please.”

And Kuma– Shin– took a deep breath and accepted the kunai from her hand. Sansa turned around under the spray of cold water and clenched her teeth, preparing for the pain. 

It hurt. It reminded her of Ramsay and his knives, of how he’d liked to cut her, to carve her up, and she couldn’t help her tears and her sobbing. Shin cried with her, but he still cut the glass shards from her, opening up the long gouges left by the whip at her instruction so that any invisible splinters could be washed away by the water spray.

Exhausted and in agony, Sansa didn’t even have the energy to stand. She didn't even have the energy to turn off the shower spray, only to use her hands to push herself out from under the spray of water, Shin following after her, before she collapsed forward onto her stomach, Shin following her example, pressed against her side, and she fell into an exhausted sleep that was closer to an unconsciousness due to pain, shock and blood loss then true exhaustion.

~

Sansa woke on the steel table of the 'infirmary'. She almost wasn’t surprised. What did surprise her was that she wasn’t bound. Tentatively, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her vixen mask was by her left hand and she brushed her fingertips over the smooth, cool porcelain, tracing the crimson swirl of the Konoha symbol over its forehead.

Footsteps heralded Danzo’s arrival and Sansa looked up to meet his single eye. “Foolish child,” he said and Sansa smiled coldly at him, baring sharp teeth.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she said.

“I received a full report,” Danzo told her. “I know full well you wouldn’t have asked any questions about the masks. You understand exactly why they are necessary.”

“I understand why you use them,” Sansa corrected, “their necessity we can agree to disagree on.” Danzo looked coolly back down at her.

“You tried to take Kuma’s punishment in the boy’s place,” he said. “That was your first act of foolishness. Your second act lay in trusting a child to perform rudimentary field surgery on you instead of returning him to the barracks then seeking out professional medical help. The boy made a mess out of your back.”

Sansa grimaced. “I admit I wasn’t thinking straight,” she said. “I was in shock and exhausted, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m not making excuses, I’m just explaining the circumstances. I will do better.”

“You will,” Danzo agreed. “Resistance to interrogation training usually starts later, but you are a special case.” He then smiled. It was not a nice smile. “And because of your foolishness, you will temporarily be trading partners. You and Kuma will be paired for the duration of your RTI training.”

Sansa looked over at Danzo with sinking horror. There was no point in begging, she knew. There was no point in resisting.

“You will do better next time,” Danzo said and Sansa looked him dead in the eye.

“I will.” She said. Because she knew she didn't have a choice.

~

*Jenny of Old Stones– Florence + the Machine really brings it to life!

Chapter Text

IMPORTANT!!! Today was a double update, so make sure you've read Chapter 26 before you read this one. Also, if you feel warnings are necessary, they're located at the end-notes. Enjoy!

TWENTY-SEVEN:

Sansa kept her eyes closed. She wished she could retreat back to her mindscape or warg far away from her body, but she couldn't do that to Shin.

"You may reveal only one piece of information," she had been told, "and that is your code name– Megitsune."

She had been given another piece of information, a string of numbers, and had been told that if she revealed them, then they would stop interrogating her and Shin. But to reveal them would mean failure.

Failure was unacceptable.

Sansa had long-since learned her lesson about trying to step in Shin's place, to stop him from being punished. Watching her partner's head be held under water over and over, watching him be whipped, watching them break his fingers... it was so much worse than having that very same torture inflicted on herself, and that, she believed, was the entire point of this horrific ordeal.

She watched numbly in her restraints as Shin's face was forced again and again into the tub of water. Resistance to Interrogation, or RTI training, was so far easily the worst part about Root. Every couple of weeks she and Shin would be escorted away from Usagi and Koi and taken to some type of cell where they would be 'interrogated'. The first few times Sansa had broken quickly; she could deal with the pain being inflicted by the interrogators upon herself, but witnessing Shin being tortured had broken her every time. That was, until she realised that every time she broke, the next time it would be worse for her partner.

She'd gotten better at staying silent after that.

Eventually, Shin was pulled choking and spluttering from the tub and chained to the wall in the same kneeling position that she was. They were both fixed with thick blindfolds, ear-plugs and steel gags from nose to chin, with just a small gap over the mouth wide enough for a funnel to be forced down, and through it a tepid drink poured into her mouth.

(Their porcelain masks had been taken from them for this. Apparently the one time other than sleeping and eating that it was acceptable to remove their masks was for complete sensory deprivation torture)

Sansa swallowed the liquid flooding her mouth as quickly as she could to keep from choking. A dark panic borne of drowning clawed at her mind, memories of her own time having her face forced into the tub overwhelming her, hanting flashes of scorching, spasming lungs and water greedily rushing down her throat all she could think of until the funnel was eventually removed and she was free to cough and choke, the drink spilling down her chin, dripping onto her neck and down her bare chest.

Breathing heavily through her thick, clogged nose, Sansa hung listlessly in her chains, something almost like pride warming in her chest. This was the fifth session in a row that she hadn't broken. She'd been tortured and watched Shin be tortured without making a sound. She wondered if Danzo would be satisfied yet. If he wasn't... she didn't think she could cope with this any longer without truly shattering. She could deal with being hurt herself; her very bones had been moulded by the life she had lived to suffer and withstand the pain and suffering that would break lesser men, but to watch another be hurt...

That did more to break her then any other cruelty that Danzo could inflict upon her.

At least there had been one benefit to the extended periods of time she'd been forced to spend chained with her senses cut off from her. Sansa had never been more aware of her chakra under her skin, how the ocean currents twisted and churned under her skin, how she could make it dance and twirl and eddy– and form seals.

Mito was as proud of her progress as she was concerned about Sansa's current circumstances. Her rage was nearly as terrifying as Kurama's.

"Soon," Mito promised, every time Sansa managed to twist her chakra into more and more seals under her skin, "soon."

'Soon' couldn't come quickly enough.

Sansa still had tea with Danzo once a week. It seemed almost surreal to sit before him, knowing that he was responsible for so much of her suffering, for Shin's suffering. She hated him, she hated him, but she knew better then to attack him. She wasn't ready, not yet. To act too soon was to court defeat. And yet, to act too late was also to court defeat. 

If she acted too late, Sansa feared she truly would break and there would be nothing left of who she was.

There was a fine balance, and she was not there yet.

But she was getting closer.

~

Sansa thought it could have gone two ways, the RTI training. She and Shin could have been torn apart, or they could have drawn together. She was grateful it was the latter, though they tended to play more at the former in front of the other Root operatives. It was safer, for both of them.

After the sessions finally concluded, about six months after they started, both she and Shin could not only keep from revealing 'classified' information during their own torture but remain blank-faced and silent in the face of the other's tortured screams, no matter how prolonged or agonised, and Danzo was satisfied with what he called their "progress". He even tested Sansa by having Usagi whipped before her for some minor infraction during their training. Sansa didn't even flinch and Danzo smiled at her over their tea.

"You've come a long way since you first arrived here," he told her. Sansa couldn't deny that was true. She had learned much in her time in Root, both in the physical ninja arts and in the politics and warfare of the Elemental Nations. She had also changed as a person; the Sansa she had been before Root would never have stood by, blank-faced, as a child was whipped to unconsciousness before her. That Sansa would have been horrified, would have thrown herself between the whip and the child.

That Sansa was dead.

(Danzo hadn't been wrong when he told her everyone breaks)

"Change is inevitable," she murmured, sipping her tea.

"It is," Danzo agreed. "But not all embrace it. Some cling to the past, refusing to let go of what has been. Only those who can truly open themselves to the possibilities that change brings can pave the way to Konoha's future."

"You're in a philosophical mood today," Sansa observed.

"I'm dealing with a rather... particular situation at present," Danzo told her. "It has me reminiscing."

"Oh?" Sansa asked.

"It seems that the same old problems just keep coming around, and yet we keep turning to the same old solutions," Danzo said, and his sigh seemed genuinely frustrated. "I feel that it's time to look towards new solutions, but Hiruzen... he does not agree."

"Hiruzen is weak," Sansa said flatly and Danzo's mouth quirked slightly, his amusement just as genuine as his frustration. Sansa wondered when she had learned to read him so well.

"You're right," Danzo agreed. "He is." He looked thoughtful. "You have given me much to think about, Megitsune," he said. "I think I will have to conclude our tea early today."

Sansa stood and inclined her head to the elder before leaving the office.

She no longer needed escorts, now trusted to make her own way around the base. She knew there was no point trying to escape, after all, and Danzo knew that she knew. So why would either of them bother with pretences?

It was easy for her to find Shin. He was training, of course– they were always training. It was their sole purpose as recruits for Root, training for nearly the entire of their sixteen-hour days, seven days a week, until they would be deemed useful enough to complete missions for the good of Konoha. Washi and Buta no longer supervised all their training sessions so when she entered the training rooms, Sansa was able to cross over to where Shin, Koi and Usagi were all sparring and lightly brush her fingertips over Shin's shoulder in greeting. He returned the gesture and she imagined he was smiling like she was, though it was impossible to tell with the porcelain bear-mask.

"How was our lord and master today?" Shin asked, managing to sound perfectly respectful when Sansa knew he was anything but– not that Koi or Usagi would understand. With their stunted emotional growth, sarcasm was beyond them both. Shin had been slightly older when he was 'recruited' and had suffered less damage in that regard.

"Delightful, as always," she replied lightly. "Though I think I may have accidentally encouraged him to take some sort of unsavoury action," she admitted.

"I doubt he needed much encouragement," Shin said with an edge of bitterness to his voice, which eased her conscience slightly even as she winced in agreement. "Spar with me?" the boy offered and Sansa pulled the tipless tanto from her back that was standard Root issue, sliding easily into a ready stance.

Sparring wasn't her idea of fun, but her taijutsu and kenjutsu had both advanced impressively over her time in Root– her instructors wouldn't accept anything less and decades of dance lessons had been surprisingly useful. Despite the two-year age gap between them, she and Shin were very nearly evenly matched as they twirled around the training room, blades flashing, feet dancing, and her skin was damp with sweat when Shin finally yielded, her tanto to his throat.

When they both straightened up, Sansa realised that a blank-masked Root operative she hadn't seen before was standing in the doorway. Discomfort prickled at her as she observed the way they were staring straight at her before turning and leaving. 

"What was that about?" Shin asked, sounding as uneasy as she felt.

"I don't know," Sansa replied, troubled. "But I doubt it was anything good."

~

Sansa's unease lingered in the weeks that followed. It seemed that the blank-masked Root operatives were watching her more and more often. When she questioned Danzo over tea, he simply waved her questions aside which only served to increase her unease.

It was about two months after she first observed one of the blank-masks watching her that she and Usagi were summoned.

They were taken to a training ground Sansa hadn't been to before. Four blank-masks were present and both she and Usagi were stripped of every weapon on them except for their tantos and a single kunai each.

"Only one of you leaves here today," one of the blank-masks said and it took Sansa a moment to process their words and realise just what they meant. And even then, she still didn't truly understand, struggling to comprehend.

"What?" she asked dumbly.

"Only one of you leaves," they repeated and Sansa shook her head in complete denial.

"I can't," she said blankly. She wasn't particularly close to Usagi. Despite Sansa's best efforts, the poor girl was too emotionally stunted to form connections and the older she got, the worse it got as the conditioning increased. But that didn't mean Sansa was in any way prepared to kill her.

"You have no choice," the blank-mask said and Sansa kept shaking her head and backing away from Usagi, towards the door. One of the blank-masks caught her before she could reach it, pushing her back towards her partner. Sansa struggled, fighting their grip, but it was useless.

"Begin," they said, and Sansa had half a second before Usagi was lunging at her with a kunai.

Sansa defended herself automatically with instincts honed from just under a year of intense training, bringing up her own kunai to block Usagi's strike. She felt sick, she felt panicked, hysteria was clawing at the edges of her mind like a panicked wolf caught in a snare as a hunter with a knife approached, and she didn't know what to do.

Usagi switched to her tanto, easy as breathing, and Sansa hastened to follow, their blades clashing; Sansa met Usagi's original flurry of strikes until she overextended and received a painful cut to her wrist that severed something deep and achingly painful, causing her to drop her tanto then immediately fold herself over backwards to avoid Usagi's next strike, thanking the gods for flexibility training even as her mind spun.

Usagi hadn't even hesitated to deliver what would have been a fatal blow and that shook Sansa, right down to her bones.

With her right hand useless, Sansa threw her kunai at Usagi to buy her a brief, precious moment of time to retrieve her tanto, this time holding it in her left hand as she faced Usagi. 

In her old world, Jaime Lannister was the sort of warning tale that hung heavy over every swordsman's head– he was a reminder that decades of training could be taken in the blink of an eye, leaving them near useless. It was why Ser Brienne, the Commander of Sansa's Queensguard, had trained herself up with her off-hand until it could nearly match her sword-hand in proficiency, and had demanded that every member of Sansa's Queensguard do the same.

It was why Sansa, upon learning that this wretched world was forcing her to fight, had demanded she be taught to wield her weapons with her off-hand. She wasn't nearly as good as she was with her right hand, but she'd been training with her left just as long so she was no beginner.

That didn't change that fact, however, that she did not want to fight Usagi. And more then that, so much more then that, she did not want to kill– or be killed by– Usagi.

"Please," she begged, "please– we are partners! I don't want to hurt you!"

Usagi ignored her and moved forward to re-engage. Sansa wanted to cry. She thought she was– she could feel a wetness on her face as she brought her own blade up to meet Usagi's.

The clashing of their tantos was fast and vicious. Sansa focused on defence, unable to force herself to make a move towards the offense, but Usagi had no such constraints and Sansa was very aware of the fact that she was the one at the disadvantage.

Perhaps if she disarmed Usagi, maybe if she forced the girl to yield... could the fighting stop then? Sansa wondered, somewhat helplessly.

Focusing, she triple feinted; left, right, left, then attacked at the centre– Usagi, who had been lulled into a false sense of security by Sansa's previous strategy of defence-only, struggled to parry the invisible attacks before she stumbled back, tripping to the ground to avoid what would have been a lethal stab if Sansa had put any more speed or force behind her attack. As it was, Sansa took the opportunity to move forward and ruthlessly bring her foot down on the fingers of Usagi's sword-hand, gritting her teeth against Usagi's cries of pain as they broke.

Usagi hadn't trained with her off-hand like Sansa had, and as Sansa pulled the tanto from Usagi's now limp grip and threw it away, she knew the other girl would not be able to retrieve it and wield it with her off-hand as Sansa had done.

Usagi wasn't finished, though. While Sansa had been distracted with the tanto, Usagi kicked her legs out, tangling her feet with Sansa's and knocking Sansa off-balance, bringing her tumbling also to the ground. Usagi immediately used her superior body weight to roll on top of Sansa and Sansa wheezed as Usagi pinned her down, trapping her legs so she couldn't kick and pressing her forearm down over Sansa's neck so she couldn't breathe.

Sansa gagged and choked, struggling against the pin. Her arms were free, but her right hand was useless, her fingers unresponsive from whatever tendon or nerve Usagi had severed near the start of the fight, and the angle was wrong for her to reach around with her left hand to claw at Usagi's ears or eyes or throat– anywhere sensitive or vulnerable enough to distract her from choking the life out of Sansa.

Her vision already greying out, Sansa scrabbled about the ground around her with her one good hand and her fingertips brushed against something metal. It was the kunai she'd thrown at Usagi at the start of the match to distract her.

Wanting to hurt Usagi, to distract her, Sansa closed her fingers around the handle and swung wildly at the other girl. She meant to drive the blade of the kunai down into the meat of the Usagi's shoulder. Instead, Usagi started to make horrible gargling sounds and the pressure against Sansa's neck immediately eased. Sansa shoved the other girl off her, coughing and gasping for breath, her eyes streaming. It took her about half a minute of wheezing to look over at Usagi. When she did, her blood turned cold. 

The kunai wasn't sticking out of Usagi's shoulder, like she'd planned.

It was sticking out of the side of Usagi's neck.

And Usagi... Usagi was laying limp on the ground where Sansa had shoved her, motionless in a rapidly expanding pool of blood.

She was dead. She was dead. There was no surviving a wound like that– Usagi was dead, little seven or eight name-day old Usagi was dead, and Sansa had killed her.

Sansa wanted to turn and run, the blank-masks having finally stepped aside from the door to the training room, but instead she moved towards Usagi, dropping to her knees beside the little girl and tearing the rabbit-mask from her face.

Usagi was a pretty little thing. Her skin was deathly pale, understandable considering they never saw any sunlight, but she had lovely pale blonde hair and light blue eyes and her eyelashes were long and feathery. Her face wet with tears, Sansa bowed her head over the little girl. "Shinigami-sama, watch over her," she choked, "guide her to the Heavens. Let her rest, let her find peace and joy, let her be loved."

Sansa slid Usagi's eyelids shut over empty, glassy eyes with trembling fingers before stumbling to her feet and fleeing.

The blank-masks did not try to stop her.

~

Following Usagi's death Sansa was moved from the bunk-room she had shared with Usagi, Shin and Koi. Not that she referred to the girl who had been her partner by 'Usagi' any longer; Sansa refused to use the dehumanising label given by those that had raised the little girl to kill or be killed. No, she had named her 'Serena' for the sister of the historical Sansa Stark. Sansa refused to forget Serena or what she had done to the girl. It may not have been intentional, but she had still taken Serena's life and she regretted it bitterly.

After Serena's death, when the blank-masks found her in the showers frantically scrubbing Serena's blood from her skin, she had been taken to the 'infirmary' where her hand, already halfway healed by Kurama, had been fully healed by the medic-nins. She had then been strapped to that gods-damned steel table and a seal had been inked onto her tongue and a second on the skin on the back of her neck.

Mito couldn't identify what the seal on her neck was, other than that it contained components of a linking seal– she had posited that it was some sort of leash, perhaps, in the event that Danzo would let her out on missions– but the seal on her tongue was easily identifiable to Mito as a cursed seal that would stop the wearer from speaking about anything incriminating relating to, in this case, Danzo or Root. It would, Mito assured her, disappear after Danzo's death. Sansa's passionate yearning for that day only continued to grow.

The day following Serena's death, Sansa almost couldn't believe it when she was summoned to Danzo's office for their weekly tea. Sitting there, across from him, all she could do was ask, "why?"

"You know why," Danzo said calmly, sipping at his fragrant tea. "I told you that I train the humanity out of my operatives, removing emotions from them such as love, empathy and grief. Killing partners is one of the final steps of the process."

Sansa forced herself to breathe, to keep still, to hold onto her thin veneer of calm when all she wanted to do was rage. This was made infinitely harder when satisfaction flickered across Danzo's face.

"Perfect," he murmured, and he sounded so proud. "You are much younger than the recruits usually are, when they face the final test, but I had operatives observing your training with Usagi, Kuma and Koi, and their observations along with my own had me confident in my decision to accelerate the date of your final test. I wasn't at all surprised to hear of your success."

"It was pure chance that I won," Sansa said icily and Danzo smiled, his scars stretching and twisting.

"Was it?" he asked, amused, and Sansa immediately wanted to protest that yes, it was, but she suddenly found herself hesitating in the face of Danzo's confidence. Had it been chance? Could Serena really have died, for chance alone? "Don't be ashamed, child," Danzo said, almost comfortingly. "You followed orders, and there's no shame in following orders. You did your duty."

Sansa felt numb, sitting there as her tea turned cold in her hands. She didn't even know what to believe anymore. Didn't know who to believe, if she couldn't even believe herself.

"Congratulations, Megitsune," Danzo said, and he actually sounded proud. "You have graduated from the first stage of training, excelling beyond what even I had expected. It is now time for the next stage of your training to begin."

~

A/N: Sansa has officially graduated from the Root version of the "Academy". It won't be long now...

Chapter Text

A/N: warnings at the end

TWENTY-EIGHT:

Sansa dry-heaved, feeling her stomach muscles contract violently even though there was nothing left to expel.

“I– hate– this!” she panted as Shin rubbed her back soothingly. 

Inoculating herself against poisons was a miserable affair– not that this was true ‘inoculation’, so much as it was an exercise of proving her relative immunity to Root's sadistic medic-nin. As a jinchūriki, she had a natural resistance to poison which meant that instead of administering her with the normal, beginner dosages that all Root agents were given before slowly being built up to higher doses, Sansa had been started on the much higher levels of poisons– enough to kill several fully-grown men. It was agony, but the medic-nin had insisted that she be able to prove she could still engage in a fight after being poisoned, this being the latest in a long list of poisons, before dismissing her to ride out the effects in privacy.

At least she had Shin with her, and sometimes Koi. Inari-sama knew that Kaeru wasn’t any help.

In the wake of Serena’s death, Sansa had been assigned a new Root agent to be her mentor– Kaeru; frog-mask. Kaeru was physically older then Sansa, in her early twenties, and a perfect Root agent with not an ounce of true emotion left in her, though she was able to feign it perfectly when it was necessary for a mission, able to slip into different personas with the same ease that most people slipped into clothing. Sansa had wanted to dislike her, she truly had, but more than anything she simply pitied the young woman.

Training under Kaeru was a very different experience from training under Washi and Buta. Kaeru specialised in infiltration, spying, sabotage and silent assassination, and for the first time since she’d been forcibly recruited to Root Sansa had reluctantly found herself genuinely interested in her lessons on the more subtle, traditionally feminine shinobi arts. Learning how to disguise herself as a noble in the daimyo’s court, or as an oiran or kamuro, or a geisha or maiko* was of far more interest to her then learning how to fight in battles.

Under Kaeru’s tutelage the past two years, alongside keeping up with her skills in taijutsu and kenjutsu, Sansa had been trained in various skills associated with infiltration, spying and sabotage. Some she already knew quite well from her many lessons from Petyr, her time as a hostage and from ruling as Queen. Others she learned from Kaeru’s dedicated tutelage. To her disgust, she was also taught how to kill– silently and efficiently, though to her relief the majority of the time she was made to practice on mud bunshin only. It was rare that she was forced to test her new skills on a prisoner.

Easily her favourite aspect of her new training, not that there was any competition, was the cultivation of her knowledge on the traditional arts of calligraphy, tea ceremony and ikebana, the classics of poetry and entertainment, playing the koto, shakuhachi, tsukumi, and shamisen**, and learning to play a decent game of shogi and go. These were all deemed necessary skills for learned, glamorous noble women, entertainers, and courtesans all, and considering the very specific skillset she was being trained in, common sense dictated that Sansa would need to pose flawlessly as them all.

These lessons in the traditional feminine arts reminded Sansa of her lessons with her Septa when she was a young girl learning how to be a proper noble lady and potential queen, and she wasn’t at all surprised when she excelled; these were the sort of skills she had spent a lifetime learning to perfect, after all, quite unlike fighting and killing. 

Her proficiency, however, had a notable drawback.

“How long do you think it will be before they send you out on another mission?” Shin asked quietly when it seemed she had finished retching and Sansa couldn’t help how she flinched.

Missions were excruciatingly awful. Six months into her training with Kaeru, Sansa had been assigned her first mission. It had been at a tea house, in an almost ironic twist of fate. It had been a beautiful tea house; neat, clean and beautifully arranged, with a steady stream of customers all day. Kaeru had killed one of the employees to take her place using a henge and stage make-up both to disguise herself as the young woman, while Sansa played the part of the employee’s younger apprentice.

Her role for the mission was to gain experience outside of the confines of the Root base; she simply had to smile and be sweet and earnest as Kaeru poisoned every single man, woman and child who visited the tea house that day with a delayed-acting, deadly toxin to disguise the one single person that whoever had hired them (Sansa, of course, was not given the details) did want dead. A single assassination hidden within a massacre. Sansa could barely keep the smile on her face as she watched a pair of young girls giggle as they tried to copy the elegant way their mother sipped her tea and smiled indulgently down at her children, knowing that by the same time the following day, all three would be dead.

Difficult as it was to believe, the missions had only gotten worse from there.

“Kaeru’s been talking about my misstep during our last mission,” Sansa said, just as quietly as Shin.

By ‘misstep’, Sansa was referring to when she had refused to kill her target when she realised the reason they’d been hired to kill the young woman who was practically still a child was because some idiot noble had gotten her pregnant and had panicked when the girl refused to get an abortion; Kaeru had stepped in to kill the girl when Sansa refused and Sansa had made the mistake of trying to stop her, pleading that they could just drug the girl to induce a miscarriage instead. Kaeru had responded to Sansa’s pleas by knocking her out, completing the mission as ordered and then dragging Sansa back to the Root base where she was disciplined.

After the RTI training, discipline rarely involved physical pain as Sansa had become very good at disassociating herself from it. Instead, it involved genjutsu ‘training’. It was called training because technically she was allowed to try breaking out of the genjutsu, but even with Kurama’s help Sansa was appalling at doing so and the nightmarish visions of her loved ones, of Naruto, Torrhen, Robb, Raya, Asha, Argella, Galladon, Jainne, Arya, Lady, Tormund, Brienne, and even Shin, Kanna, Tsukiko, and Koi, all being tortured and murdered before her playing out over and over and over again were a strong deterrent against acting out of mission parameters, even when she knew the haunting visions to be false.

“And?” Shin asked, pulling her from her dark thoughts, and Sansa could see the concern on his face for her.

“And she thinks I’ve learned from my ‘lapse in judgement’ and I’m ready to start taking missions again,” Sansa said quietly. “Even with the 'mistakes' I made in two out of our five most recent practices.”

Shin frowned. “You didn’t make them too obvious, did you?” he asked. “The mistakes have to look authentic.”

“No, I did exactly as you said,” she told him.

Shin excelled at subtle sabotage. Sansa hadn’t told Shin what had happened with Serena, she couldn’t, the seal didn’t let her, but the haunted look she’d given him and Serena’s glaring absence had spoken what she could not, and Shin had been subtly sabotaging both his and Koi’s training since in an effort to put off the inevitable fight to the death between them. Sansa and Shin were both aware that time was running out for the pair and Sansa hadn’t missed how Shin had started losing weight, looking thinner and more haggard. She was terrified for him, because she knew, she knew, that he would never kill Koi. He’d die first.

Which was why she had to act first. But try as she might, she still could not simultaneously shape all the necessary seals under her skin to disable the bindings. There were eight binding seals on her skin– over-kill, Mito had called it. Sansa could counter six at once now and Mito assured her it was extraordinary, that most seal masters couldn’t manage more than four or five such complex seals at a time, but extraordinary wasn’t good enough. Extraordinary wouldn’t free her. Extraordinary wouldn’t save Sansa and Koi, it wouldn’t avenge Sakumo, and it wouldn’t reunite her with Naruto.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Shin murmured and Sansa leaned into him, closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against his as she inhaled his scent, the comforting scent of Pack… while it lasted.

~

Naruto liked the people Tama-neechan had introduced him to, back when he’d first gone to her for help after his Ko-ane had been taken away. Some were his age and some were a bit older but they weren’t anything at all like the mean kids at the Academy. They taught him lots of cool tricks, like how to trip into people and slip his hands into their pockets and take their money, and how to play tricks by distracting mean store owners so his new friends could take their stuff, and even how to carry little packages in his pockets for these scary older men with colourful pictures on their skin who actually weren’t so scary at all when they smiled at him and ruffled his hair afterwards.

But nice as they were, he liked Tama-neechan the best. Around him, Tama-neechan would drop what Ko-ane called ‘street slang’, talking all smooth and proper like Ko-ane did, her dark eyes serious and piercing as they bored into his. “It’s not safe,” she would tell him, “to be too clever or too strong. The streets and the shadows are not safe. Not for the likes of us. You need to be loud, Naru-chan. You need people to notice you without looking at you.”

“I don’t understand,” Naruto admitted to her, confused, because that didn’t make any sense to him. Tama-neechan smiled grimly.

“That’s okay, Naru-chan,” she said. “I’ll help you.”

And she did. Tama-neechan had made him tell her the names of all his classmates and then told him which ones he needed to talk to, even if he didn’t really care at all about stupid Kiba or lazy Shikamaru or stuck up Sasuke. But Tama-neechan insisted they were Important, so he made sure to prank them both and, when she told him to, he made sure to prank his sensei too– he liked that much more.

He didn’t like being loud in class because he got told off for being disruptive, but Tama-neechan insisted he be and when he told her he sometimes thought about being Hokage, Tama-neechan told him he should tell everyone about it, that he should shout about it everyday. 

Sometimes, when the other kids in his class got mean about telling him to shut up and be quiet and called him useless, Naruto couldn’t help but want to shrink back into himself and hide. When he did, Tama-neechan would hug him tight.

“People can only steal your voice if you let them,” she would tell him, something achingly sad and wistful in her voice, “never let them stop hearing you. Never let them take that from you. Never silence yourself for them.”

Tama-neechan bought him these amazing bright orange jumpsuits to wear which he carefully sewed the Uzushio spiral on the back of and Ko-ane’s favourite wolf-teeth stitch onto the collar and hems in the same red as his sister's hair– Ko-ane had taught him sewing because she said it would be good for his dex-ter-i-ty, whatever that was. The jumpsuits were awesome and he loved the orange so much, even when his sensei groaned at the sight of them and the other kids pointed and laughed. But they all noticed… and Naruto thought that might be the point. Because they didn’t notice what the other kids wore, but they always noticed his jumpsuits.

Time passed. Gradually, the other kids stopped being so mean. When he shouted about being Hokage, his classmates just rolled their eyes. When he pulled pranks, they just groaned and his sensei would sigh, “Naruto!” in a very exasperated voice. And Naruto finally sort of understood then what Tama-neechan meant. They didn’t see him, none of them did, not really, but they all noticed him and they would notice if he disappeared like Ko-ane had.

Ko-ane...

The grief that filled Naruto up when he thought about his sister made him choke up like he couldn’t breathe properly, made him feel all sick and yuck like he might throw up. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t get out of bed, it hurt so much, and all he could do was curl up under his blanket and cry into his pillow. Other times he would just run to their shrine and hide there, unable to bear to be around anyone else until Tora eventually came out of the shadows to carry him back to the empty apartment.

(The shadows are not safe. Not for the likes of us.)

Sometimes, Naruto wouldn’t talk to Ojiisan, couldn’t bear to, even though Tama-neechan said he must, that Ojiisan was the most dangerous man in the village. But Hokage-ojiisan was a liar and he was keeping Ko-ane away from Naruto and Naruto hated him, he hated him, and sometimes it was just too hard to pretend. 

Ojiisan usually sent his shadows to fetch Naruto if Naruto wouldn’t come visit him, or if Naruto had skipped too many days of the Academy, but Naruto had gotten super good at avoiding the shadows. They felt different from the rest of the people in the Yūkaku, so they weren’t exactly hard to avoid. Especially if he took off his orange jumpsuit, trading it for ratty t-shirts and baggy shorts, rubbing dirt on his cheeks and wrapping a scarf over his bright hair the way Ko-ane had taught him, what seemed like forever ago.

Nobody seemed to notice him then. It was like he was invisible. It made Tama-neechan frown in worry, sometimes, but she knew he needed to be invisible sometimes. Because being Naruto was exhausting.

The scary men in the Yūkaku liked that he was good at avoiding the shadows, especially when he was delivering their packages. They also liked it when he used the burning red haze to snarl at people– it seemed to really, really scare people when he did that. It had made one man even pee himself! The scary man that Tama-neechan called Waka-gashira*** had been really impressed. He’d ruffled Naruto’s hair and said Naruto was wasted as a shinobi, that he’d have made a great enforcer. Naruto wasn’t sure what an enforcer was, but he’d preened at the compliment and Waka-gashira had chuckled, something almost fond about his face.

“You just charm everyone, don’t you Komorebi-chan?” Tama-neechan had said fondly afterwards. Komorebi was the name she used for him when he wasn’t pretending to be too-loud-too-bright-Naruto. It meant warm sunshine that streams through the leaves, because Tama-neechan said he was the only true ray of sunlight in Konoha. Naruto loved it. He loved being Komorebi. It was a freedom, a weightlessness, that being Naruto just wasn’t.

Sometimes Naruto thought about disappearing into the Yūkaku, which really was a world of its own compared to Konoha proper, for good. He even thought it probably wouldn’t be that hard to get out of Konoha altogether. Waka-gashira smuggled people in and out of the village all the time. Hokage-ojiisan said that the Will of Fire meant that Konoha was his family, but the only real family Naruto had left in Konoha laughed in the face of the “Will of Fire” when he’d told her about it– Tama-neechan called it useless ‘propaganda’, whatever propaganda meant– and Naruto didn’t even know if Ko-ane was still alive. 

The only reason he stayed was out of what little hope he had left that maybe, just maybe, Ko-ane still lived. He would never forget her and he could only pray to Inari-sama that he would see her again. But that hope was dwindling more and more as the months turned to years, and more and more often Naruto found his mind wandering away from Konoha, and instead towards the island Ko-ane used to whisper to him about, the island their kaa-san had been a princess of before it had been destroyed, the island Ko-ane called Uzushio.

But he couldn’t leave without Tama-neechan. And he couldn’t just disappear on her. He knew how much that would hurt her– not after she’d told him her secret, curled up together in her kaa-san’s room at Madam Ai’s while her kaa-san worked downstairs.

“I had a sister, once,” Tama-neechan had told him softly. “She wasn’t my sister by blood, but her kaa-san is one of the neesans here, so she was my sister in all the ways that matter. Her name was Anka– it meant colour of dawn because she had the prettiest blue eyes. But she stood out. It was too obvious that she had Yamanaka blood– her hair, her eyes, her mind... she was too clever, too bright, too good for this place. And then one day she was just gone.

“The Konoha Military Police Force did nothing, of course. They barely put any effort into searching for a bastard, a fatherless child of a whore. The Yakuza at least tried, but all they could do was confirm that at least she hadn’t been taken by the skin trade. Which was... something, at least. It was more than Konoha ever gave us,” Tama-neechan said bitterly and Naruto sniffed, wiping at his damp eyes as he shuffled over to wrap his arms around Tama-neechan, pushing his face into her tummy.

“That’s why I joined the Yakuza,” Tama-neechan told him, bringing one of her hands to rest in his hair. “They do what Konoha doesn’t. Sure, they get a bad rap, but they’ve got proper codes, and they protect the businesses and the people of the Yūkaku if you pay them a protection fee, including the neesans of Madam Ai’s and their kids, and it’s not like they harass businesses into paying them, and they protect all the kids who work for them. They’re not the good guys, I know, but the KMPF and the shinobi aren’t either.”

“Old Man Hokage is forcing me to be a shinobi,” Naruto told her, using Tama-neechan’s name for the Hokage, rather than calling him ‘grandfather’ as the Hokage had instructed him to, “but I don’t want to be. Do you think I could join the Yakuza like you and be a shinobi?” He liked the idea of being part of an organisation that protected the neesans and their kids and the other boys of the Yūkaku. It sounded much better than the Will of Fire that the Hokage talked about, which seemed all great and stuff but was actually all lies. Nobody in Konoha proper had ever seen him or Ko-ane as family. And he knew they never would.

Tama-neechan laughed and wrapped her arms tighter around him. “Silly Komorebi-chan,” she said teasingly, “you already are– what do you think all those deliveries are for? And Waka-gashira doesn’t just meet up with any old runner; you can dodge ANBU– and that’s really fucking impressive!”

Naruto beamed up at her, even as he leaned up to quickly rub his cheek against hers, his chest warming when she didn’t complain or grimace. He liked that she smelled like him, like Pack. It made him feel less like he was just drifting aimlessly along, more settled in his skin. Tama-neechan scratched his head affectionately. “You’re one of us, Komorebi-chan,” she said. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

“Pinky-promise.” Naruto said solemnly, holding up his pinky, and Tama-neechan smiled and hooked it.

“Pinky-promise.” She agreed.

~

*Oiran = high class courtesans/prostitutes; Kamuro = young girls that did everyday chores for the oiran; Geisha = entertainers (not prostitutes); Maiko = apprentice geisha

** koto, shakuhachi, tsukumi and shamisen = traditional Japanese instruments

***Waka-gashira = Captain of Yakuza (ranks underneath the Boss/Oyabun)

Also, “ Komorebi” ( 木漏れ日 ): from kanji: 木 (tree) 漏 (escapes) れ日 (sun, light) - the sunlight that escapes through the trees. 

Chapter Text

A/N: chapter warnings located in the end-notes

TWENTY-NINE:

Sansa knew she was beautiful. Fine bone structure, a deceptively delicate-looking build, skin smoother than silk and fair as fresh-fallen snow, eyes the deep blue of the ocean’s depth and deep red hair, now long enough to brush against the wings of her shoulder-bones. But Sansa knew better then to ever think that beauty was a gift; in her first life, all her beauty had ever gotten her was sold from man to man and raped by a monster.

In this life, as she sat demurely in seiza across from Kaeru– or rather, as the mission had dictated, from her mistress the beautiful “O-matsu-san”, a chûsan oiran, the second highest-ranking oiran there was, so expensive to hire it required the connections, influence and a magnitude of wealth that only nobility, state officials and the wealthiest, most elite of shinobi and samurai could afford– her beauty was just as much a curse as the last.

As a kamuro, “Sakiko-chan” was meant to attend her “older sister” O-matsu-san when she appeared in public, to run errands for her and attend her needs when she met with her clients. While O-matsu-san’s clients might talk to her, to try and trick her into telling them how O-matsu-san felt about them or passing on love letters, such games were known to the kamuro, who were trained to answer with child-like innocence and in such a manner that led men to believe the courtesans were in love with them. Sansa had no issues with any of these duties.

What she did have issues with was how men seemed to believe that because she was a kamuro and she was beautiful, they had the right to touch her, to put their hands on her and imply foul things in playful voices, some looking at her with the same lust in their eyes that they looked at the oiran. And even though Sansa was capable of breaking them now, her body honed to a fine weapon she was well-capable of wielding to deadly effect, unless given orders otherwise, she had to act as a real kamuro would.

She had to act as Sansa Stark once had; a sweet little lady, soft, helpless, a pretty little doll for men to play with as they pleased, to break as they pleased. For hadn’t that been what her lady mother, her septa, even Cersei had taught her? That it was her duty to serve men, to be pleasing in her appearance and manner for their own sake? Had not the praise given to her in childhood for her beauty, her skill at learning to manage a household, her piousness, her talent for embroidery, had it not all been for her future duties as a wife?

You are so lovely, sweetling, so talented; you could make any Lord very happy, her lady mother would always say, as if it was the highest of praise. Silly little Sansa, naïve young Sansa, filled with her Southern dreams of chivalrous knights and golden princes, had always been delighted by such praise.

Sansa now wondered– and what of my happiness, mother?

But those were not the thoughts of a sweet, pretty doll, they were not the thoughts Sakiko-chan would have, and Sansa let herself sink deeply into Sakiko-chan, into the little girl who would be cosseted yet not sheltered, who knew what her future held yet idolised her “older sisters”. Sakiko-chan was soft, shy and already so lovely; Sakiko-chan had dreams of one day being a Yobidashi chûsan, the highest-ranking of all oiran. Sakiko-chan had never so much as witnessed death.

As Hitotsuyanagi no Kurō Ryūshirō (who she privately referred to as Ryūshirō for simplicity's sake), the son of a wealthy noble with a cock more upright then his morals, let his hand run along the curve of her spine, Sakiko-chan tilted her head in a manner that would be seductive if she weren’t a child– though it seemed to be working for him– and watched from under her eyelashes. She let herself lean slightly into his touch, as if unconsciously, tucking her chin shyly as his smile widened.

“May I help you, danna-sama*?” she asked, soft and sweet, her face as serene as the still waters of a pond.

“I’m sure you can,” Ryūshirō smiled. “Have you any sponsors for your Mizuage yet, lovely girl?”

A Mizuage was the ceremony undergone by kamuro as part of their coming of age ceremony and graduation. The kamuro would be sponsored by a patron, who through his sponsorship would gain the exclusive privilege of being the oiran’s first customer. While there were official minimum ages for a Mizuage, unofficially, and for the right price, children were offered at practically any age the employer desired.

Sansa Stark would respond to Ryūshirō’s foul, insinuating question with dark thoughts of the poisoned pins in her hair and how Ryūshirō’s face would turn as purple as Joffrey’s as he choked silently for air that would never come. Sakiko-chan merely blushed fetchingly, one dainty hand pressing to a pink cheek.

“I’m afraid,” O-matsu-san said as she rose, the silver of the kanzashi decorating her elaborately styled hair chiming softly, “Sakiko-chan is too young for Mizuage. Sakiko-chan, you are dismissed.” O-matsu-san gestured with a graceful hand to the finely-painted folding screen in the corner of the room. Sakiko-chan rose, bowing to Ryūshirō before gracefully making her way over to the screen in her high geta and disappearing behind it.

Sakiko-chan waited patiently for the relations between her mistress and client to conclude and the soft murmur of voices between them to fade out as the noble left before sliding back, Sansa moving back into the forefront of her own mind as she re-emerged from the screen.

“Well done,” Kaeru’s blank tones sounded strange coming from O-matsu-san’s red-painted lips. “You attracted his attention well– he remained distracted throughout our encounter, repeatedly glancing towards the folding screen. I mentioned that you would be running errands all day tomorrow. I expect he will send his men to fetch you.”

Sansa nodded.

“And when he does,” Kaeru continued, “you will be taken past any shinobi or samurai guards, into the walls of his family’s shōen. There you will complete the mission. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Sansa said. “I do.”

~

Dressed in a pink and white kimono embroidered with ornate red blossoms and fastened by a red obi and her red hair decorated with pink and white ribbons and silver kanzashi that chimed with every skipping step, Sakiko-chan darted to and fro around the market with a number of other brightly dressed girls, carrying orders to merchants, calling on vendors, delivering gifts and even buying sneaky snacks to share with her sisters as they giggled together, exchanging hushed whispers about the clients they had seen their “older sisters” with.

Sakiko-chan didn’t notice the men approaching the market, Sakiko-chan didn’t purposefully wander away from the other kamuro, too close to the seedier street corners where foolish men may feel more confident to act, and Sakiko-chan certainly didn’t force herself not to let her fingers flutter towards her poisoned hairpins when the men were looming over her. “Danna-sama?” she asked prettily, blinking in confusion up at Ryūshirō, flanked as he was by his two guards, little better then hired sell-swords in their leather armour.

Ryūshirō smiled at her. It was almost kind, if it wasn’t for the hungry excitement. “Let’s not make a scene,” he said. “Come with me now and there’ll be no trouble at all. You can go home to your older sister at the end of the day. I’ll even make sure to pay you for your time.”

Sakiko-chan chewed on her lip nervously, quite ‘unaware’ of how the motion attracted Ryūshirō’s attention. “But,” she said hesitantly, “O-matsu-san said–”

“It doesn’t matter what she said,” Ryūshirō interrupted. “She’s not here now, is she?”

“…no,” Sakiko-chan said softly, fearfully, looking up at Ryūshirō under her eyelashes. “…she isn’t.”

“Are you going to be a good girl, Sakiko-chan?” Ryūshirō cooed, holding out a hand and Sakiko-chan sniffed, nodding timidly and placing her small, dainty hand in his.

~

The shōen of the Hitotsuyanagi family was impressive to behold. Before the last century, when the Hidden Villages had been formed and the daimyos had found themselves with the resource of an established military force in place of scattered clans tearing at each other’s throats, the shōen had been estates that existed free from interference of the shogun or the daimyos he had appointed. They had had no say or control of what occurred within the shōen’s boundaries; shōen had been exempt from taxation, entirely autonomous and self-sufficient, with a working class who lived on the estate to work the fields, raise the livestock and serve the noble family.

With the increased military power behind the daimyos, however, the threat of the autonomous estates that undermined the daimyos– and through the daimyos, the shogun’s– political and economic power were quickly brought to heel. The threat of an army of shinobi did what the threat of an army of samurai warriors could not. Shinobi were feared in the Elemental Nations. Despite what her initial years in Konoha had led Sansa to believe, they were far from the dominant population of the country, yet they had a power over the civilians they were so vastly outnumbered by due to the sheer factor of fear.

Even before the Hidden Villages had been built, the abilities of shinobi had been known and feared. Older estates, like the Hitotsuyanagi family’s shōen, were very difficult for even shinobi to infiltrate– through either force or by stealth– because the shōen had been built with shinobi infiltrators in mind– though not for an army of shinobi who weren’t so much infiltrating as they were threatening to tear the shōen down around the noble. In the end, only one family had had to be made an example of for the rest of the nobles to surrender their autonomy and submit themselves to their local daimyo’s rule, so as to keep their titles, lands and lives in tact.

It remained, however, that the easiest way to gain entrance to a shōen, particularly one as old as the Hitotsuyanagi family’s, was to be invited inside and that wasn’t easy, particularly the main house of the estate. Lord Hitotsuyanagi’s third son, however, had a certain proclivity that the Lord paid handsomely to keep hidden from better society– a proclivity for younger girls.

That was where Sakiko-chan came in.

It was easy to get inside the shōen without notice when it was one of the Lord’s sons who was oh-so conveniently smuggling her inside through the family’s secret passages, taking care to keep her hidden from the guards and his father’s men. Lord Hitotsuyanagi may pay to hide Ryūshirō’s predilections from the upper echelons of the daimyo’s court to save the family the embarrassment, but he in no other manner endorsed his son’s behaviour and the last thing Ryūshirō wanted was for his father to catch him with a clearly underage girl– and a kamuro at that.

Sakiko-chan didn’t know any of this, of course. Sakiko-chan was frightened and unsure and simply did whatever it was she was told to. Sakiko-chan just wanted to go back to O-matsu-san and had to blink back tears which glistened as she looked up at Ryūshirō, so terrified and achingly vulnerable.

Ryūshirō set his guards to wait outside his door the moment they arrived at his wing of rooms, gently guiding Sakiko-chan through to the bedroom as if he were a gentleman. Sakiko-chan didn’t react as she was pushed back onto the bed, her hands coming back to brace herself. And when Ryūshirō leaned down to kiss her, she simply slid the hairpin she’d finally pulled free from her hair into his neck.

The poison acted quickly.

Sansa moved to roll them over, sitting on Ryūshirō’s chest and pressing her hand over his mouth to keep him silent, just in case. The location she’d inserted the hairpin should have paralysed him, but she’d rather be too cautious and alive then not cautious enough and dead.

She could have just knocked him out, or paralysed him. It would have been just as simple and Ryūshirō wasn’t even her mission. She just… well, she just honestly couldn’t bear to let him live. His greedy hands, his hungry eyes, his arrogance and entitlement in assuming he could just take and take and take and nobody, certainly no helpless, afraid little girl, could stop him– well, someone would have killed him sooner or later. It was just a shame she didn’t have a pack of hounds around. Or proper access to her chakra, so she could summon her wolves– it would be the least of what he deserved, to be torn about by fang and claw. Poison just felt too quick.

After Ryūshirō stopped breathing and his heart stopped beating, Sansa took a moment to look around the bedroom. Her nose wrinkled. All the mosaic dragons on the walls with their golden accents were just so… tasteless. Ostentatious displays of wealth were obnoxious, and so very Lannister. Though perhaps the fact they were dragons had her biased.

Leaving Ryūshirō on the bed, turning his body so it faced away from the door and pulling the bed covers up so that at a glance it would look as if he were sleeping, Sansa pulled the kanzashi from her hair and removed the outer layer of her kimono. Hidden underneath was a plain yukata, one in the same style as worn by the servants of the Hitotsuyanagi family, complete with the Hitotsuyanagi family crest.

Steeling herself for the biggest risk of the mission so far, Sansa lightly gripped a poisoned senbon-turned-hairpin in each hand as she approached the only exit to the room, the door with two guards outside. Pausing, she listened for their breathing, for the footsteps of anyone close by, and satisfied that they were alone, she knocked softly on the door.

“Guards-san?” she asked, timid and sweet.

There was a short pause and then the door opened. Sansa didn’t hesitate to strike, not when hesitation would mean discovery, failure, death. The guard who opened the door received a ‘hairpin’ to the neck, the thin sliver of metal sinking deep. The poison would kill him in moments, Sansa knew; already, he had fallen to his knees, and her attention had moved passed him, to the other, now more immediate threat. The second guard had been shielded by the first guard, obstructed from her reach– if he was smart, he would have run for help. But he didn’t see a threat, probably didn’t even realise the reason the first guard had collapsed. He just saw a delicate little girl and he didn’t even bother to pull out the sword on his back as he lunged for her, reaching with his big, thick fingers.

The armor he wore was inconvenient, but the guard’s neck was unprotected and Kaeru had trained Sansa to be lethal with her senbon, dancing out of reach even as she flicked her wrist, letting the ‘hairpin’ fly with deadly accuracy. The guard didn’t even have time to stagger; Sansa’s aim was true and he immediately dropped to the floor, paralysed, even as the poison coating the senbon entered his bloodstream.

Moving swiftly, Sansa dragged him into the room then dragged his now-deceased fellow guard in too. The poison on the senbon would have him dead within a minute, so Sansa didn’t bother killing him, just left the poison to do its work. In all, it had taken her less than a minute to deal with both guards.

Smiling down at the man who had helped Ryūshirō abduct her from the streets and take her back here to rape, Sansa stepped over the guard with a purposeful dismissal and left the bedroom.

The Root mission briefing only had a vague idea of the layout of the Hitotsuyanagi family’s shōen. They knew enough to know that Ryūshirō’s quarters were located on the East wing and Lord Hitotsuyanagi’s study– her target– was located in the West. With her head down, Sansa walked through the corridors, making sure to project enough confidence that no one looking at her would doubt she belonged.

Lord Hitotsuyanagi’s study was off-limits for the household staff. There was a guard at the door, but a single senbon coated with a rare non-lethal poison that caused short-term memory loss that Kaeru had actually harvested in Kiri from a breed of shellfish ensured both unconsciousness and a confusion upon waking on the guard’s part about how he came to be unconscious– and, should he report the incident to Lord Hitotsuyanagi, any investigation should lead first to Kiri.

Sliding soundlessly into the study, Sansa couldn’t help her grimace of disgust. Ryūshirō had apparently inherited his… ostentatiousness from his father. All of the study was decorated with luxuries that screamed expense and there was actual real gold inlaid in Lord Hitotsuyanagi’s desk– that was, in Sansa’s firm opinion, easily reaching Lannister levels of obnoxious. It horrified her Northern sensibilities– even in the most frivolous, Southron dreams of her naïve youth she could never have dreamt of such wastefulness.

Nevertheless, she wasn’t there to critique the décor– she was there for Lord Hitotsuyanagi’s inkan; the seal he used for printing stamps and impressions. Inkan were used to mark authorship and prove identity. They could be used on anything from documents and contracts to works of art and proof of authenticity. More common inkan were made of wood, while the more important people had inkan made of precious materals such as jade.

If Danzo got his hands on Lord Hitotsuyanagi’s inkan, there was an awful lot of manoeuvring he would be capable of. He could use it to forge letters and official documents supposedly written by Lord Hitotsuyanagi. He could convince traditional allies of the lord to cut ties, stop trade and more. He could even use it to ‘redirect’ funds from the Lord’s bank accounts. The possibilities stretched out dauntingly before Sansa and she could only wonder of Danzo’s purpose, what it was that he plotted.

It was a cunning move, she could admit, one made more impressive by the fact that Lord Hitotsuyanagi would not openly be able to admit to his inkan being stolen. An inkan was a legitimising device of rule; for high lords, daimyos and shogun, inkan could become objects of great rivalry and armed conflict as the lordships and regimes which possessed the inkan were often regarded as legitimate. For fear of his rivals encroaching on his power, so long as Danzo moved subtly Lord Hitotsuyanagi would likely choose to stay silent while hiring investigators to find and return his inkan– by which time any trace of Sansa would be long gone.

The kimono and kanzashi she’d left in Ryūshirō’s room, along with the two dead guards and Ryūshirō himself, would lead investigators back to the capital’s Yūkaku, perhaps even to the brothel where O-matsu-san and Sakiko-chan had been employed. But that was the point, because that was where Kaeru’s part of the mission came in– while Sansa was stealing the Hitotsuyanagi family’s inkan, it was Kaeru’s job to be leaving false trails that would lead the theft back to Kirigakure, easily the most politically unsettled of the countries that made up the Elemental Nations.

The assassination of the previous Water Daimyo and his entire family by a Kirigakure shinobi had caused a gaping distance to form between the daimyo and the Hidden Village, despite Hoshigaki Kisame having gone missing-nin when the assassination took place. It was that distance and lack of oversight from the daimyo that had largely enabled civil war to break out in Kiri, with the Mizukage sending out killing squads to wipe out kekkei genkai users– a daimyo would usually act to bring such a situation under control, but the Water Daimyo had pointedly separated himself and his court from Kiri and because of his decision, Kiri’s streets ran red.

Lord Hitotsuyanagi would be reluctant to send his retainers to the blood-drenched lands of Kirigakure to regain his lost inkan and any ability to investigate the theft would become increasingly difficult, as Kiri’s governance did not encourage ‘loose lips’. The investigation would be stalled for months, if not longer.

Of course, first Sansa had to actually steal the inkan. Methodically searching the office, it didn’t take her long to locate the secret sealed drawer in Lord Hitotsuyanagi’s desk that was the likely location of his inkan. The seals protecting it were ridiculously basic– or at least, they were for someone who was being trained in the sealing arts by an Uzushio seals mistress– and it didn’t matter that Sansa couldn’t access her chakra, she didn’t need it– all she needed was a brush, some ink and a few drops of her blood to adjust the seals so they would ‘recognise’ her as blood family and allow her to access the contents of the drawer.

Sansa wasn’t even surprised at this point to see that Lord Hitotsuyanagi’s inkan was made of pure gold with friezes of sinuous, winding dragons carved into its handle. It was sizeable, about two inches by two inches, and ideally Sansa would be able to seal it into a scroll– though that would require chakra, of which hers was still sealed. As it was, she tucked it under her yukata, holding it to her body under her armpit as she left the office, a brief glance back revealing the guard was still unconscious but breathing normally.

The shōen was designed to keep people out, not keep them in, not unless the shōen was on lockdown– which Sansa was acutely aware it could go into anytime, should any of the bodies she’d left behind or the missing inkan be discovered, and thus couldn't help her tension, though she kept it hidden under false masks of tranquility as she approached one of the servant gates. The guards paid little attention to one small girl mumbling about running chores for her kaa-san in town and let her pass through without incident as they focused the weight of their suspicions on those entering.

And so Sansa disappeared into the streets of the capital where Kaeru was waiting, another mission successfully completed.

~

Shin was the one Sansa went to after giving her verbal mission report to Danzo. It was night, and Sansa easily walked past the guards that patrolled the Root base, the pair never giving her a second glance, and slipped into the bunk-room that once had housed her, Serena, Shin and Koi, and now housed Shin and Koi and a new partner set, both of them aged six name-days; Ookami and Hitsuji, wolf-mask and sheep-mask.

Sansa was honestly disgusted at herself, that she’d never noticed the symbolism of the masks they’d been given. Shin and Koi were bear-and-fish. This new set of partners was wolf-and-sheep. She and Serena had been fox-and-rabbit. There was no subtly at all present, no attempts to hide that one day they would fight to kill. Only the depravity of it had prevented Sansa from making the connection. 

Shin didn’t even twitch as she slid under his blanket beside him, using a senbon to pick the lock of the shackles binding his wrists to the headboard so that he could instead move to wrap his arms around her.

In the comforting embrace of the darkness and Shin both, Sansa finally let herself fall apart in the aftermath of the mission, her body trembling so badly it felt as if she must surely be making the entire bunk shake. Shin pulled her to him, let her bury her face in the vulnerable curve of his neck, the site where Sansa had dealt three killing blows in her last mission.

The fact Shin would still willingly expose such a vulnerable target to her, the show of his trust, his faith, in her despite knowing her speciality, knowing the sharp teeth she hid behind her soft lips, eased Sansa’s trembling in part. Shin’s scent, his arms around her, the feeling of safety she knew was a lie but felt anyway, hidden in the darkness and curled up with one of her Pack, helped ease the rest of the trembling.

“I had to let him touch me,” she finally whispered to Shin, unable to keep the anguish from her voice. “Not anywhere intimate, not truly, but I can still feel his hands on me…” the soft keen escaped her, the memory of Ryūshirō’s hand on her back, of the way his eyes hungrily ate her, and Shin’s grip tightened, his smaller, protextive sweeping over her, nails digging into her slightly, as if attempting to erase what they could of the memories of that creeping, invasive touch.

“Is he dead?” Shin asked, a tight fury in his young voice.

“He is,” Sansa confirmed. Danzo had arched an eyebrow at that as she had given her report, but otherwise hadn’t commented on her acting outside of the immediate mission parameters, or on the manner in which she had strayed from her usual pattern of subduing where she could and killing as only the last possible resort.

“Good,” Shin said darkly, and he spent the remainder of the night piecing Sansa back together until morning came, and with it Kaeru’s announcement of another mission having being assigned, just as there always was. 

~

* Danna = wealthy patron 

A/N: If you’re at all interested in more information on oiran, kamuro and the lives of Japanese courtesans throughout the Edo period, a good resource is ‘Yoshiwara: The Glittering World of the Japanese Courtesan’ by Ceceilia Segawa Seigle

Chapter Text

IMPORTANT!!! Today was a double update, so make sure you've read Chapter 29 before you read this one. Enjoy!

THIRTY:

Sansa sipped her tea, cradling it between her hands. Before her, Danzo sat with a contemplative look on his face. He seemed unusually preoccupied, which was unusual for him.

“Is there something on your mind, Danzo-sama?” she asked.

At first, Danzo appeared as if he were about to dismiss her concerns, which she had expected, only then he hesitated.

“It is my belief,” he said to her slowly, “that people are free to make their own choices in life.”

Sansa blinked. “I find that quite difficult to believe,” she said and Danzo’s mouth quirked slightly.

“What they are not free from,” he continued, as if she had not interrupted, “are the consequences that their every choice will bring. I was never very interested in studying the sciences, but my sensei was quite the researcher and I picked up a few things from him. One of which was the idea that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. I feel that this applies to more than just objects in motion. People make their choices, people act on those choices, and in return they reap their consequences for those choices.”

“In an ideal world that would be true, yes,” Sansa agreed, “but there are those who do not have the freedom to make choices, or whose choices are made for them, and they must then suffer the consequences for the choices made by their lords and masters.”

“True,” Danzo said, before giving her a thoughtful look. “Tell me, Megitsune, if you were the Hokage, what would your reaction be if one of the clans in your village was planning to overthrow you?”

Sansa did not even have to think about her answer. “There is only one sentence for treason,” she said icily, remembering the traitorous Boltons, remembering the treacherous Freys, and feeling a dark loathing unfurl inside her; a vicious and pitiless thing, with no mercy to be found in its hollow, withered heart.

Your words will disappear. Your House will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear.

When people ask you what happened here, tell them the North remembers. Tell them winter came for House Frey.*

“If I were Hokage,” Sansa said, her voice cold as the Long Night itself, “I would put every man and soldier of the clan to death.” She paused briefly, recalling that in Konoha, the women were trained soldiers– or rather, shinobi– too. “Every man, shinobi and soldier of the clan,” she corrected herself.

“And the non-combatant women and children?” Danzo asked.

“I would take their gold and their titles, but I would let them live as a warning to all others in the village,” Sansa said, because there was as much power in a pardon as there was in an execution. “It would be proof of my mercy and mercilessness both. They would serve as permanent warnings to the consequence of treason.”

Only once had Sansa had to make a true example during her rule as Queen of the North, a massacre that had later been memorialised in the ballad “the Ice Queen of the North”. She had opened the Gift to the Free Folk for those who wished to settle south of the True North, and for those clans who remained in the True North she had opened up trading posts so they may make trade with villages instead of thieving as they once had in a past she hoped to make distant and forgotten in the wake of their Dawn victory.

But it was not to be and Sansa had later cursed her naivety for believing it could be so.

A group of men from one of the villages had banded together to attack a trading post. The Free Folk hadn’t been expecting it; they were women, children and youths, those who had travelled to make peaceful trade and witness for themselves what life would be south of the True North. The Free Folk had all been slaughtered and the clans shouted for justice, while the villagers closed ranks.

Sansa’s rule had still been new at the time, uncertain. She had known if she did not deal wisely with the situation she would be seen as weak, her rule of the North as a farce. Sansa had had no intention of letting any see her stumble– especially not the Dragon Queen in the South, whose spies must surely be reporting to her on every aspect of the happenings.

She had sent Arya into the village in question, her many-faced Spy Mistress and her strays seeking out the information she needed. Then, with a force of her own soldiers and Tormund at her side, a guest then that she had invited to make a statement, she had had each of the men Arya had pronounced guilty dragged before her.

The one who passes the sentence swings the sword, her father had always said. Sansa was not strong enough to swing a sword. But she was strong enough to wield Arya’s Valyrian dagger and to slit the throats of twenty-seven men, their hot blood splashing on her hands and dress.

“I declared the Free Folk citizens of the North,” she addressed the crowd coldly as the bodies were left to cool at her feet. “I declared them under the banner of my protection. To harm them is to defy me. To defy me is treason. In the North, there is only one sentence for treason.”

Those watching had dropped to their knees and Sansa’s heart had ached, remembering her vow, so long ago, so convinced she had been then that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, she had decided, with a dewy-eyed innocence that Sansa barely remembered, I’ll make them love me.

And the people did love her. They did love their Ice Queen, their Queen of the North, their Queen who had refused to kneel to the dragons, who had fought for the independence that their kingdom had bled for.

But they feared her too. And it was then, with her hands soaked in blood and corpses at her feet as her people kneeled before her that Sansa understood that as much as they may love her, they would always fear her.

Across the desk from Sansa, Danzo smiled, his scars twisting and stretching as unpleasantly as always. “You always offer such an interesting perspective on matters, Megitsune,” he said. She wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t as if there was anyone else in the Elemental Nations who was a reborn Queen of an entirely different planet.

“Traitors,” Sansa replied icily and without an ounce of remorse, “do not deserve second chances.”

Her brave brothers, Robb and Rickon, and her beautiful lady mother, they had all been killed by traitorous, treasonous Houses, Houses that had spat on their oaths to their liege lords. Sansa held no forgiveness in her heart for such disloyalty.

Sansa did not consider herself a traitor to Konoha, though she understood others might. She had never sworn her loyalty to Danzo, or to the village, for all they assumed it. She was an Uzumaki; her loyalty lay with Uzushio, the island nation she and her brother were heirs of, not to the village that had failed her true homeland. Sansa had made no oaths, had broken no bread, and she never would. But the clans of this village, they who had sworn their oaths, they who had given their loyalty; if they planned rebellion, planned betrayal? That made them traitors.

Traitors deserved only death.

“I do enjoy our tea,” Danzo mused, placing his empty cup down on his desk. “Thank you for your insight today, Megitsune.”

“Of course, Danzo-sama,” Sansa said, bowing her head slightly.

She left Danzo’s office with a sense of unease weighing down on her. It was clear there was a state of political unrest stirring in Konoha and while she did not care for the village itself, she did care for Naruto and she knew better than most how it was the young and the innocent who suffered during war. She could only hope that Danzo dealt with the treason– before it could turn to war.

~

Uchiha Itachi knelt before the bandaged councillor who looked down at him impassively. “They are preparing to move,” he said quietly and Shimura Danzo nodded.

“Then it is time,” he said. “Do you understand your orders, shinobi?”

“Yes,” Uchiha Itachi bowed his head. “I do.”

“Then go,” Shimura Danzo said. “Go and fulfil your duty to Konoha. Go, so the village may know peace.”

Uchiha Itachi went.

~

“Seven counter seals,” Sansa murmured, letting her chakra unravel from the complicated twists and curves she’d guided it into, flowing freely once more under her skin. “Seven counter seals, one to go.”

“You’re so close now,” Shin said quietly, his eyes closed as he leaned against her where they were both hidden in one of the training rooms under a light genjutsu Shin had cast. Their masks were both discarded beside them, something that would earn them harsh discipline if it was discovered but was worth the risk for a moment or two of being human. Without his mask, however, it was clear to see how exhaustion clung to Shin’s thin face and Sansa could smell the sickness on him, like a rot.

“Close. But not close enough,” Sansa said what they both knew. Shin’s lips twitched into a tired smile, even as he didn’t bother to open his eyes.

“You’re going to be one of the greatest seal-mistresses alive,” he said.

“Which means nothing if I can’t help you,” Sansa said helplessly.

While Sansa and Shin had originally taken Shin’s near-permanent exhaustion to be a result of stress as they waited for the inevitable death-match between him and Koi, it had slowly revealed itself to be something far more insidious– a creeping sickness that stole his breath and poisoned his lungs, making him waste away before her.

Root didn’t waste their time with sick shinobi.

Sansa and Shin both knew that there were only three options left for him– either Sansa killed Danzo and Shin received treatment at Konoha’s hospital, the sickness caught up to him and he died, or the death-match was finally scheduled and Shin threw it so Koi would live.

Two of those options led to Shin’s death, and only one, the most difficult and improbable of them all, gave even a chance of him living.

“I could try killing Danzo without chakra,” Sansa offered and Shin laughed.

“Thanks,” he said, actually opening his eyes so he could look up at her and smile, amusement crinkling his grey eyes. Stark-grey eyes, Sansa couldn’t help but think every time she looked into them. It made her heart ache with longing, grief, loss and joy, made her want to cling to Shin, to bury her face against his chest and weep. “I needed that laugh.”

Sansa shifted, sliding down so her head was resting in his lap, her slowly growing hair spooling out over his thighs. His thin fingers gently ran through the lengthening red strands and she closed her eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, so soft it was barely audible. She immediately felt the muscles in Shin’s thighs tense, his gentle grip of her hair suddenly tightening.

“You’ll keep Koi safe for me,” he said fiercely, “you’ll keep him alive. You’ll free him, you’ll introduce him to your Naruto and you’ll teach him how to live. Promise me, Fuyuko!”

Sansa let out a shuddering breath. “Of course,” she vowed. “Of course I will. If– if the worst happens… I will look after him, I give you my word.”

Shin tugged her hair until she sat up, leaning against him so they were sitting curled together, Shin pressing his face into the curve of her neck and they held each other with too-tight, too-desperate grips, breathing together, as one.

(Sansa very carefully didn’t think about the rattle as Shin exhaled. She just focused on holding him)

~

When Sansa returned from her next mission with Kaeru, exhausted and emotionally wrought, Koi had been moved from the barracks for the recruits to the main barracks and his eyes were empty.

She didn’t even have to ask. Koi had graduated.

Shin was dead.

~

Sansa wondered if Danzo should have had her fight Shin instead of Serena, if the purpose of the final fight was to kill their emotions. After Serena’s death, Sansa had felt grief, such wretched grief and guilt. After Shin’s death, Sansa just felt numb. Empty. When even the ancient chakra construct sealed inside her was worried, Sansa could acknowledge there was a problem.

Shin had been her constant, her closest companion and confidant, for nearly three years– and maybe that didn’t seem like so long, not when she was decades old in truth, but that was nearly half her time in this world and they had spent nearly every minute of it together, they had been tortured together, Shin had helped piece her back together after missions that shattered her apart, he had carved open her skin to pick shards of glass out of her back, had brushed away her tears on the rare occasions she let them fall. They had been close as blood. They had been Pack.

And now he was dead. And Sansa didn’t know how to deal with that. So she just… wasn’t.

She was doing her training. She was doing her missions. She was doing tea with Danzo. She was… existing.

She just wasn’t living. And she couldn’t find it within herself to do so.

Distantly, she wondered if this was it. If Danzo had finally done as he said he would. If he had finally broken her.

(Cersei had warned her. The more people you loved, the weaker you were)

~

Kakashi slipped through the dark, winding streets of Konoha, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to collapse back into his bed. He’d been running back-to-back missions since Itachi had snapped and massacred the majority of his clan, sparing only the young children who hadn’t even entered the Academy, the civilian women, and his younger brother. To say that it was a mess was an understatement on the same level as calling the Kyuubi Incident an inconvenience, and there was a wretched part of Kakashi that felt responsible, that felt as if he should have noticed that a member of his own squad was so close to cracking–

“Hey, shinobi-san!”

Kakashi almost didn’t stop, except the girl actually stepped into his path and that was unusual for any of the street rats of Konoha’s seedier corners, especially as he was still wearing his Inu mask.

Even with her sallow cheeks and pale skin, the girl had a touch of Nara about her features, in the curve of her brow, the dark sweep of her hair and the piercing dark eyes that gleamed with intelligence. She was no doubt the result of an unprotected visit to a brothel and Kakashi wondered absently if he should let Shikaku know– the Jōnin Commander would be furious at his clansman when he found out who fathered her, and Shikaku would find out.

He didn’t say anything, just stood there silently, waiting for the bastard girl to speak. She frowned at him for a long moment, her head tilted slightly as her eyes swept up and down over him, seeming to catalogue every part of him in disturbing detail. Definitely a Nara. “You’re Inu, right?” She asked sharply.

“…Yes,” he said after a long moment and the Nara bastard nodded.

“You’re a hard man ta find,” she said shortly, and somehow she made it sound like this was a failing on his part. “Girl named Fuyuko was looking for ya. Now she’s missing. Thought ya should know.”

It took Kakashi a few seconds to really register what she’d just said. When he did, he couldn’t help the Killing Intent that exploded out of him. The girl flinched, the blood draining from her face, but she stood her ground.

“What?” he snarled.

The Nara bastard grinned at him, all teeth and bitterness and nothing even slightly friendly about her.

“Yeah, she asked us ta keep an eye out for ya. Didn’t want us to make contact, just wanted a sighting. That was about three years ago.” She leaned forwards slightly, a challenge in her eyes. “She disappeared not long after.”

Kakashi couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think properly. The Nara bastard seemed to realise that and she took pity on him, leaning back.

“Naru-chan’s fine,” she said, and something in Kakashi’s chest loosened slightly. “We take care of him,” the girl went on. “Old Man Hokage keeps telling him Fuyuko’s sick. That she’s gotta special sorta sickness and he can’t visit her, so we don’t think she’s dead. But Naru-chan ain’t seen her in three years now, and he says the Old Man’s a liar and Naru-chan’s got good instincts. He knows when someone’s lying so I believe him.”

Kakashi forced himself to exhale, before the white spots in his vision expanded any further. “Can you,” he managed to say, “get Naruto somewhere safe for the next few days? Somewhere hidden?”

The Nara bastard narrowed her eyes. “Why?” she demanded and Kakashi met her dark, intelligent eyes and smiled, even though she wouldn’t be able to see it behind his Inu mask. The smile wasn’t even remotely friendly.

“Because,” he said, “I’m going to go find Fuyuko and I’m going to rip apart anyone in my way.”

The Nara bastard smiled right back at him, just as unfriendly, something grimly satisfied in her dark eyes. “It’s about fucking time,” she said. “If you survive, visit Madame Ai’s and say you’re looking for Komorebi. Someone will take you to Naru-chan.”

Kakashi nodded shortly. “Thank you,” he told her. “I owe you a debt.”

“You do,” the girl agreed bluntly. “And one day, I’m going to call you on it.”

~

Kakashi went to Tenzo. His first instinct had been to summon his Pack so they could help him hunt Fuyuko down, but that would have been useless for a trail more than three years old, and if Sarutobi hadn’t sent out every single fucking search party in Konoha for a missing Jinchuriki then Kakashi already knew exactly who had Fuyuko. So Tenzo was the obvious first stop.

Tenzo knew Root better then Kakashi did; compared to the years Tenzo had spent there, Kakashi had been part of that wretched, filthy organisation for just over a year and a half. He still had nightmares about the horrific missions he’d been assigned while within its ranks; him, a shinobi who’d sharpened his teeth in wartime. Fuyuko was a child. Three years ago, she would have just been four years old. Now, she’d be only seven. What horrors had she been forced to endure in those three years that he had thought her to be safe? To be protected?

He had accepted the Hokage’s ban on him going anywhere near the twins. He’d been unhappy about it, to say the very least, but after he had killed that boy at the orphanage and then served in Root up until the unfortunate incident where he was manipulated into almost being complicit in an assassination on his Hokage **, Kakashi had accepted his judgment was flawed and he had trusted the Hokage to know what was best for the twins as he could not trust himself to.

But he had been wrong.

Barely able to restrain the violence inside him, that sharp-toothed predator in his soul that howled its rage and bloodlust, Kakashi didn’t bother with doors, instead swinging in through Tenzo’s window, disabling the traps set there with extreme prejudice.

“Kakashi-senpai?” Tenzo blinked owlishly at him as he shuffled into the living room of the small apartment, still ruffled from sleep and wary but not quite-yet alarmed.

“Danzo has Fuyuko,” Kakashi snarled, not bothering with any sort of opening to soften the blow of the words. Tenzo’s eyes widened with panic and horror both before settling on determination.

“When are we going to get her?” he asked, which was exactly why Kakashi had first spared his life and then later helped convince the Hokage to have him removed from Root.

“Right now.”

~

*Yes, Arya said this one, but you better believe that she told Sansa every single little detail about what she did to the Freys. And on this note, I know a lot of fics are about preventing the Uchiha Massacre, but I think Sansa would have very little empathy/pity for a clan/House rebelling against their ‘liege lord’ – especially as she only has Danzo’s side of the story. If she knew more about the treatment the Uchiha, she might support them. Or she might tell them to just secede from Konoha like she’s planning, instead of starting a civil war. Who knows?

**For those who don’t know Kakashi’s ANBU Arc (part of canon), during the brief period that Kakashi is part of Root Danzo plots to have Sarutobi assassinated and Kakashi is somewhat complicit as he knows about the plot and spies on Sarutobi until he realises that Danzo stopped Tenzo from fighting on the night that the Kyuubi attacked, meaning the Kyuubi could have been defeated with Mokuton and Minato might have lived. My timeline is a bit wibbly-wobbly compared to the actual timeline (there’s actually about three years between the foiled assassination and Tenzo being liberated from Root and then another two before the Uchiha Massacre) but let’s not be too nit-picky :)

Chapter Text

THIRTY-ONE:

“I’m not going to apologise,” Danzo said.

He was sitting at his desk and she was sitting across from him. Two cups of fragrant tea sat untouched between them.

“I would think far less of you if you thought I’d be foolish enough to believe such lies,” Sansa replied, sharp as shattered ice.

“Sentiment, attachment… they are dangerous,” Danzo told her. “They are failings.”

“That is your belief.” Sansa said, cold. 

Danzo looked calmly back at her. “I tried to have the Hokage assassinated,” he said, and his manner was so mild and unaffected it was as if he was admitting to nothing more than eating rice at lunch. “Hiruzen is fully aware of what I attempted. And due to his sentiment, his attachment to our long-since disbanded genin team, he did not attempt retribution. He did not have me executed for treason, as would have befitted my crime. He did not even have me reprimanded or have my power in the village restricted.”

And Sansa thought she couldn’t be any more disgusted by the Hokage.

“Attachment to individuals is a weakness,” Danzo repeated, leaning forwards slightly, his single eye boring into hers. “For leaders, in particular, they are the single biggest danger one can have. That is why I train attachment out of my shinobi. It is why I have trained it out of myself. I am not attached to individuals, I am attached to an idea– the idea of my village, of Konoha.”

And Sansa… as much as she hated it, Sansa understood where he was coming from. She did. For leaders, the kings and queens, the lords and ladies, the knights and the generals, attachments to individuals over armies, kingdoms and countries could be disastrous; if the good of the people as a whole was not put first, the results could be ghastly. She need look no further than her own Aunt Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar to see the truth in Danzo’s words. For Rhaegar’s ‘attachment’, the entire realm had bled.

And yet, there were also so many examples of where love for an individual had given strength to people to act in ways that were ultimately for the good of many. For all that Sansa loved her kingdom and her people, it was her love for her children, her family, that gave her the strength to walk to her own pyre.

Before she could contend Danzo’s claims, before she could counter his arguments with her own, a blank-mask shinobi darted into the room, almost too fast for her eyes to follow. Their hands were moving, making signs, some of which Sansa recognised from Kaeru’s training–intruder, ANBU, casualties– and Danzo stood, frowning. “Megitsune, put on your mask,” he ordered, and Sansa did as bid, standing and retrieving her mask, unease pricking its sharp claws down her spine. No weapons were to be worn in Danzo’s office and she felt almost naked without any way to defend herself.

“Get behind the desk, Megitsune,” Danzo ordered and Sansa hastened to comply. She was barely in position, mostly concealed by Danzo’s body, when a familiar body burst into the room like a pale ghost from her past.

“Inu?” she gasped before she could even think to stop herself, hating how her voice seemed to quiver.

Inu looked terrifying; dressed from head to foot in black, stinking of spilt blood, his presence crackled through the office like the chirping ball of lighting he held in one hand, a blood-dripping tanto in the other. He drew so much attention Sansa barely even noticed the smaller presence behind him until Danzo addressed him.

“Kinoe,” he said. “And I had such high hopes for you.”

“My name,” the boy, not yet a man grown, said, a slight tremor in his voice even as he boldly looked Danzo straight in the eye, “is not Kinoe.”

“Such high hopes,” Danzo repeated with a sigh. “A pity. Kill them,” he ordered.

And Sansa took a stumbling step back as the office exploded into action.

In all her missions, she’d never actually witnessed a battle like this. Kaeru specialised in infiltration and assassinations, not the sort of clash of gods it seemed she was witnessing before her. Root agents were pouring into the room and Inu and Not-Kinoe were ripping through them; white-hot, blistering lightning engulfed every body it encountered, crackling with joy, as if alive, the smell of burned flesh reaching Sansa’s nostrils as the corpses of the Root agents shrivelled into singed rags, their blood a dark, thick liquid oozing out of their noses and ears, brain and organs molten from the inside, even as roots of trees burst through the floor and ceiling and walls to skewer through torsos and skulls, leaving lifeless bodies hanging limp as their insides dripped-dripped-dripped to the ground below.

Sansa could only watch the slaughter with wide-eyed horror but Danzo sighed, sounding merely put-upon. “Stay there,” he ordered her, before unwinding the bandages over his arm as he stepped forward. Sansa almost screamed as she saw, for the first time, what was hidden beneath them; there were no old scars there, no battle wounds or disfigurement– there was only pale, twisted, gnarled flesh hosting unblinking eyes, all in Sharingan crimson.

“What have you done?” Inu demanded, sounding shocked.

“What had to be done,” Danzo replied smoothly, and then the gnarled roots were twisting, turning back on Not-Kinoe while Danzo was attacking Inu, meeting him blow-for-blow, along with a fresh wave of Root agents.

And Sansa… Sansa suddenly realised she had not moved an inch from where Danzo had ordered her to stand.

She had obeyed him mindlessly, just as all his Root agents did.

Shin would be horrified, she thought numbly.

So would Mito and Kurama and Tsukiko and Lady.

Joining the fight… it would be a death sentence. She was good, she’d had her skills beaten into her, for sixteen hours every day, seven days a week, for three years, but she couldn’t match the legends fighting before her.

And yet… If I’m going to die, she remembered, let it happen while there’s still some of me left.

A sense of calm settled over her, centring her, and Sansa breathed in, closing her eyes. Under her skin, her chakra moved; she guided the currents, thinned them to the slightest trickles of streams, twisted them into curves and lines, held them there, focused;

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven…

…

…

…

—eight.

Sansa could feel the dark lines of chakra-infused ink leaking in wet trails down her skin as the binding seals broke, and she didn’t even have time to feel triumphant, to feel a thrill of victory, as her senses expanded in a rush like an avalanche of snow.

Every blazing chakra signature in the room and further, so much further, she could feel them, she could feel them all, for leagues and leagues around; dizzying and intense. And oh, the emotions… it was like an exploding seal had been set off in her skull, and it was only through focusing on the familiar bright burst like the lashing of a sea storm that was Naruto’s chakra, still so achingly familiar, so mighty and magnificent, that Sansa managed to stay conscious, stay upright, though even that took gripping onto Danzo’s desk as she found herself startlingly grateful for the mask that hid her face from the room. Not that anyone was actually looking at her, not with the deadly battle raging in such close quarters, where a single misstep was the last mistake that would ever be made.

Sansa didn’t plan on making a mistake.

She had too much to do before she died.

She had too much she’d lose if she died.

Keeping her chakra tightly contained was simple; she had spent the past three years learning how to manipulate it down to the finest detail, how to create the smallest trickles out of the roaring tides within her, and she ruthlessly suppressed her presence until she knew she would be near-invisible to the senses of every shinobi in the room. Until she would appear as no threat.

One chance.

She had no weapon, but there was a pen on Danzo’s desk. Nobody was watching as she picked it up, or when she snapped it in half and bent over, shielding her actions as she shoved the broken half of the pen into the skin just to the side of the hollow of her throat, gritting her teeth against the pain as she pushed it nearly an inch in, careful to avoid any veins or arteries. She waited until the blood was really flowing before discarding the pen and straightening up, clapping both her now-bloody hands to neck and screaming.

“Danzo-sama!” she shrieked, stumbling back.

She knew exactly what sort of sight she would make– blood-soaked hands clasped over her throat, blood pouring down her neck, panicked and stumbling, calling for his help…

Danzo claimed he had no attachment to individuals. He claimed his only attachment was to Konoha. Perhaps that was true. But Sansa knew he was invested in her. He wouldn’t spend so much time with her if he wasn’t. And she could guess how he would react when confronted with such a scene as the one she had created for him.

He didn’t disappoint.

Danzo cleared his desk in a single leap, an impressive feat for someone who cultivated the image of an old, decrepit man. “Megitsune, what is your status?” he demanded, in the same voice he used when asking for mission reports, reaching out with a hand glowing green. Gasping as if in a panic, Sansa reached for his wrist with her own, small hand, grasping onto it.

And Danzo froze.

Under Sansa’s palm, a seal burned into his flesh.

And finally, her chakra unfurled around her, as freezing and all-encompassing as the deepest, darkest, hungry depths of the ocean, overwhelming as it threatened to swallow all those in the room whole.

Every shinobi fighting in the office was brought to a standstill as Danzo fell to his knees before a ‘child’. He took a shuddering, pained breath, his mutated arm reaching for his chest, clawing over his heart as blank-faced, Sansa watched Mito’s assassination seal in action as it stopped Danzo’s heart from beating. With the last of his strength, Danzo’s hand moved to claw at one of the Sharingan glaring out of his arm. Before Sansa’s eyes, it seemed to spin faster and faster, its pattern turning new and unfamiliar, different to all the others implanted in his arm.

“Izanagi*!” Danzo wheezed.

~

The world shifted.

~

And then Danzo stood before her, alive, unaffected, the now-blank and glassy Sharingan weeping tears of blood that dripping down his arm, to the floor below.

As Sansa stared, Mito’s words drifted back to her. A Mangekyo Sharingan is an evolution of the Uchiha's Sharingan. It is far more powerful, but comes at the heavy cost of eventual blindness. A flicker of understanding tinged with rage (and fear) ran through her. “That’s Kagami’s eye, isn’t it?” she asked. Danzo’s left eye widened slightly.

“Yes,” he said, “it is. The second. And in all these decades, you are one of only two people who have managed to land a fatal injury on me, forcing me to use one up. You should be proud, Megitsune.”

“My name,” Sansa told him, raising her chin high, every inch the Queen she was, “is not Megitsune.” She ripped off the porcelain mask and threw it, not caring where it landed, her eyes never leaving Danzo. “My name,” she said, a wolf’s snarl in her voice, “is Uzumaki Fuyuko, Daughter of Uzumaki Kushina and Namikaze Minato, Sister of Uzumaki Naruto, Descendant of Uzumaki Mito, Sacrifice to the Nine-Tails and Alpha of the Spirit Wolves.”

And before Danzo had time to respond, Sansa reached for silver-moonlight-claws-fangs, her chakra surging up inside her and crashing down as she slammed her bloodied hands to the floor and howled, “Kuchiyose no Jutsu!”

The explosion of her chakra tore the office apart even before Tsukiko, Sayomi and four other members of the Pack who Sansa had yet to be introduced to appeared. The ceiling split open as the office caved in and all the shinobi inside scrambled to avoid being buried alive as the earth poured greedily in, leaping for the sky now revealed above them, Sansa among them, just as frantic as dirt fell on top of her, burying her alive, and she couldn’t breath, not until she’d clawed her way to the sky.

Once they reached the surface, whatever hiatus had been afforded between Root and Inu and Not-Kinoe during Sansa and Danzo’s exchange was well and truly over with the fighting beginning again in earnest. Inu and Not-Kinoe were fighting Danzo again and one of them had summoned a pack of dogs to help the wolves fight off the Root agents, the canines tearing through agents like wet parchment. Sansa looked over the bloody scene for a moment before grimly stepping forward, paralysis seals twisting under her palms as she pulled forth the burning haze of Kurama’s chakra, knowing she’d need the protective edge it would give her once she joined the slaughter. Kurama allowed it, without even a single grumble.

Wading through the battle, Sansa twisted and twirled around flashes of blades, of eruptions of deadly jutsu, bringing the full force of her chakra and Kurama’s Killing Intent down on all the Root agents before her, causing enough of them to stumble that it gave her precious moments to brush her hands against them, paralysing seals falling from her skin easy as breathing. It did not escape her notice that not one of the Root agents attempted to attack her, to harm her in any way, but she did not have time to think of what that meant, because while they may not be aiming for her, a battle was a chaotic place and all of Sansa’s focus was on her fraught surroundings.

The moment she spotted Koi had joined the fray, however, she almost froze in place as fear shot through her.

You’ll keep Koi safe for me. You’ll keep him alive. You’ll free him, you’ll introduce him to your Naruto and you’ll teach him how to live. Promise me, Fuyuko!

She wouldn’t break her promise to Shin. She wouldn’t.

‘Kurama,’ she begged, begged for more, past what she had the right, and Kurama huffed.

‘Fine,’ they huffed, as if they were so-very put upon and not at all eager to show off their superiority to a troop of upstart monkeys, and Sansa felt Kurama’s burning chakra, already simmering against her skin, violently surge, sending anyone unfortunate enough to be near her flying away. The excess of bijuu chakra danced about her in wide columns of burning power– like tails, she realised. Three of them, to be exact. The Root agents, dogs and wolves alike didn’t just avoid her now, they actively threw themselves away from her as she stalked across what had become a battlefield, over to the frozen Koi.

“Don’t you dare waste Shin’s sacrifice by dying pointlessly like this!” She snarled as soon as she was standing in front of him, drawing back her red-coated fist to punch him in the face, cracking the porcelain mask to pieces. Beneath it, Koi’s face was ghostly-pale from lack of exposure to the sun and he looked up at her with confused eyes. With effort, Sansa made sure her hands were free from Kurama’s burning chakra before slapping him on the cheek. Lightly. The paralysis seal had Koi falling to the ground and she seized his wrist, dragging him away from where the fighting was thickest. “I’ll come back for you after,” she told him, vowed to him. “I’ll finally fulfil my promise to Shin.” He could only blink back at her in response.

Turning back to the fighting, Sansa could see that more shinobi had joined in. They weren’t Root agents either– she guessed they were the village forces and they looked like they were fighting to subdue both Inu and Not-Kinoe, and Danzo and the Root agents. They were also approaching her with their weapons out and Sansa, not looking to be attacked– she had unfinished business yet– forced Kurama’s chakra back under her skin, baring her teeth at the burn, like she was forcing wildfire to sink down inside her, the icy waves of her own chakra barely soothing the burns it left in its wake.

The approaching shinobi seemed to relax somewhat as Kurama’s chakra faded, and one of them actually crouched down so they were at her level. “Hey, Fuyuko-chan,” he said, and his face wasn’t familiar, but his voice was. And, as she took a moment to check, so was his chakra.

“…Tora?” she asked hesitantly.

“Well, not anymore,” he said, “but yes. Though technically, I’m not supposed to tell you that. I’m Namiashi Raidou. It’s nice to meet you properly.”

Sansa smiled tentatively at him, taking a hesitant step forward. “It’s strange to see you without the mask, Namiashi-san,” she said softly and Namiashi laughed.

“I bet,” he said warmly, “and call me Raidou.”

“Raidou-san,” she said, testing the name on her tongue, closing the distance between them and looking up at him shyly. “It’s been a long time, Raidou-san,” she said and she watched his face tighten with grief and guilt as he reached for her without hesitation, as if she was still the small child he’d watched over, the small child he’d last seen when he carried her to the hospital as she’d bled from the kunai her Academy sensei had stabbed her with.

Sansa let him. She let him cup her whiskered cheek his hand. He didn’t even flinch when she lifted her own small hand to place over his.

He really should have.

In the time it took Tora– Raidou– to fall to the ground, paralysed, and his comrades to notice, Sansa had already darted back towards where the last two fighters were battling it out.

Danzo and Inu.

Neither Danzo or Inu were holding back and they both moved so quickly that neither the wolves, the dogs or the other shinobi dared to try to interfere, for fear of getting struck down or hitting the wrong person– or getting hit themselves.

Sansa moved in as closely as she dared, her heart in her throat as she sought shelter from any of the shinobi that might think to grab her between Tsukiko’s paws. Tsukiko crouched slightly on her haunches, her lips pulled back to expose her blood-stained teeth in a silent threat that went well-heeded.

Sansa’s eyes didn’t leave the fight, so she saw the moment that Danzo faltered. Inu didn’t hesitate; his crackling lightning jutsu buried itself in Danzo’s chest and Danzo choked, faltering, collapsing to the ground as Inu let the elder's body slide off his arm to the ground. He did not move to get up. 

Sansa finally stepped forward, Tsukiko stalking behind her in a silent threat to dissuade any who might think to stop her. She knelt before Danzo’s slumped form, reaching for his hand– not the mutated one, the one that was still human. The one she had burned a seal into to stop his heart, not so long ago.

“I’m not going to apologise,” she said, mimicking his words from earlier that day. His blood-flecked lips twitched.

“I would think far less of you if you thought I’d be foolish enough to believe such lies,” he rasped and she smiled too.

“Thank you for your many lessons, Danzo-sama,” she said. “I’ll never forget them.”

More blood spluttered from Danzo’s lips as he coughed and his mouth moved, as if he was trying to say something. Sansa leaned in– this was a mistake.

Danzo’s mutated hand lashed out, his fingers wrapping around the nape of her neck. Sansa could feel the moment the seal there activated, the lines spreading across her neck like a collar– but even more concerning, in that moment his other hand moved to tear away the bandages covering his right eye, revealing the crimson Sharingan eye implanted there.

It was mutated, much like Kagami’s, mutated and pinwheeling and as she stared into it, she could hear Danzo’s voice ringing in her head. You are the heiress to my empire, he said. You are the heiress to my ideals. You are the heiress to my Will of Fire.

And Sansa heard Kurama’s roar before Danzo was ripped away– very literally, as in Inu ripped Danzo’s head from his body.

Sansa swayed, her hand reaching for the seal on the back of her neck. It pulsed like a living thing in time with her heartbeat, and she could trace its lines with her chakra, each line and twist and curve. She knew now why Mito could never figure out what it was– it had been incomplete. It wasn’t incomplete anymore.

You are the heiress to my empire.

The heiress.

It was a leash, yes. But Sansa wasn’t the one who was collared– she was the one holding the chains.

~

*Izanagi - a genjutsu performed using the Sharingan. With Izanagi, the user applies an illusion to reality itself, giving the user control over what is and is not real for as long as Izanagi is active. Users typically do this in order to protect themselves, negating any injuries they receive or even their deaths. When this happens, their injured self fades away as an illusion and their non-injured self immediately materialises in the previous self's place.

Chapter Text

THIRTY-TWO:

Sansa stared blankly into the still-spinning crimson eye, still so vibrant and clear despite the fact it was planted in the head dangling from Inu’s grasp. Blood leaked in gushes from the terrible neck wound and in an absent part of herself, Sansa thought she ought to be sickened, that she should be turning away from the ghastly sight. She didn’t, too numb to the dread from the enormity of her realisation. Of what Danzo had done.

Horror and terror twisted inside her and she moved before she even thought about it, Tsukiko’s bulk hiding her actions from all but Inu as her small fingers pried the still-spinning eye from Danzo’s right socket, actions careful as she could not to damage it. After a brief pause, she knelt down beside the limb, headless corpse and pried Kagami’s glassy, blank eye from its mutated arm– it would, she hoped, give Mito closure for them to bury it.

Concentrating a moment, her chakra eagerly leaping to her command, a storage seal blazed dark blue against the flesh of her forearm, muddied as it was by blood and dirt both. Sansa lightly touched the two Sharingan to the seal and in a quick blaze of chakra, they disappeared, along with the seal, hidden away.

Inu, who had said nothing as she did this, finally reacted to something Sansa didn’t see. He yanked her up into his arms and before she could do or say anything, it was like they were flying through the air he was moving so fast. Even Not-Kinoe couldn’t keep up, though he did try.

Sansa wasn’t sure what was going on; the wolves weren’t following them, Tsukiko, Sayomi and the others had dismissed themselves though Sansa could feel them still, hovering just at the edge of her awareness where their bonds ran deep, still ready to answer her call, to fight, to spill blood in their Pack’s name, but in Inu’s arms Sansa finally let herself take a moment to breathe.

Danzo was dead.

For Shin. For Serena. For Tsukiko. For Sakumo. For Kagami.

For herself.

Danzo was dead.

Sansa felt an overwhelming outpouring of relief, of that there was no doubt. Danzo had taken her, he had tortured her, he had killed her partner, bloodying her hands to do so, he had stripped her of her dignity and pride and sense of self; he was a monster, a monster she had wanted dead and devoted herself to killing, and she had hated him, hated him, and yet there was some small part of her, some dark, twisted scrap of ruination, tainted by shadows, blood, and bitter, haunting resentment, that grieved him, the man who she shared tea with and who had asked for and respected her opinions, even when he disagreed with them.

People were far more complicated then labels of ‘good’ and ‘bad’; life would be so much easier if they weren’t. If things were just straightforward, and it could be said that a person was evil, a monster, a villain. That there was nothing good in them at all. But that just wasn’t how it worked.

Sansa would not mourn Danzo. He did not deserve that and the hatred she felt for him would not allow it. But she would not forget him, either. Though she did not think that possible, even if she wanted to. Not with the legacy he had left her.

You are the heiress to my empire. You are the heiress to my ideals. You are the heiress to my Will of Fire.

Sansa was pulled from her thoughts as a shinobi dressed all in green appeared suddenly in their path, forcing Inu to halt, a growl rumbling in his chest.

“Don’t make me go through you, Gai,” Inu warned. “I don’t want to, but I will.”

The conviction in his voice left no doubt to all present that he meant every word.

The green shinobi– Gai– looked hesitant. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” He asked, hushed and uneasy.

“I do,” Inu said shortly. “I’ll be back, Gai. I promise.”

“Then it will be as you say, my eternal rival!” Gai exclaimed, though he kept his voice subdued. “And in preparation, by the time you return I will have–”

“I don’t have time for this,” Inu interrupted, pushing past Gai and Sansa distantly heard something about “hip and cool” in the distance as Inu and Not-Kinoe kept running.

~

“What do you mean,” Hiruzen said tightly, barely able to restrain his fury, “Kakashi, Tenzo and Fuyuko left Konoha, and now you can’t find Naruto!?”

“We know they don’t have Naruto with them,” the ANBU before him reported, holding themselves stiffly. “They didn’t even try to hide the fact they went straight out the gates. Tenzo even told Izumo and Kotetsu they’d ‘be back soon’ as they passed through.”

Hiruzen felt like grinding his teeth. No– that was too tame for the rage he felt. Too restrained.

“Find. Naruto.” He ordered. “I don’t care how, just find him! And send one tracking team and two retrieval teams after Kakashi, Tenzo and Fuyuko! Do it now!”

“Yes, sir!”

Hiruzen barely waited for the ANBU to leave before letting his face fall to his hands.

This was a disaster. In fact, this was more than a disaster. Danzo was dead, he had one Jinchūriki missing, another one involved in the death of an elder, and, possibly worst of all, Root had been exposed. The clans were already sniffing around the covert organisation, what with all the paralysed Root agents that Fuyuko had left lying around the battlefield, some of them very obviously from clans despite being completely unknown to their clan of origin, not to mention the bloodline-theft Danzo was unmistakably guilty of... no, this was a catastrophe. This could tear the village apart.

Offering up the deceased Danzo as a scapegoat would mitigate part of the damage, but to deny any knowledge of his old friend’s activities as he must do would only serve to make him look weak. The clans would whisper, his forces would start to doubt him, to doubt his decisions… they had only just narrowly avoided a civil war, perhaps to be plunged into an unrest just as poisonous, just as potentially weakening of the village.

Who had told Kakashi of Fuyuko’s placement with Danzo? Whoever they were… Hiruzen wanted them punished for this disaster, wanted them dead– which short-sighted shinobi could have possibly failed to foresee how Kakashi would react? The boy was unstable, and worse he had the skill to survive his instability– there could have been no doubt how Kakashi would react. No doubt as to the disaster he would wreak. Whoever had informed him had committed a grave disservice to Konoha and he was going to have to have each of the ANBU aware of Fuyuko’s placement interrogated to find out who had spilled.

Head still in his hands, Hiruzen could only wonder in disbelief at how it had all come to this, how everything could have spiralled so far out of control– and now he was supposed to bring the village back to heel.

~

“So,” Genma drawled, leaning against the wall of Raidou’s secured hospital room– a very nice way of saying ‘cell’, considering there were two ANBU ready to subdue him should he try leaving, “you got taken out by a seven-year-old.”

“A kage can be killed by an academy student,” Raidou immediately parroted his old genin sensei’s teachings, “all it takes is one mistake.”

“Mm,” Genma looked at him with judging eyes, “Yes. Interesting word choice there– mistake.”

Raidou sighed. “Yes, alright,” He said. “I made a mistake.”

Which was what had ultimately landed him here.

The Uzumaki, he had been told as he was ‘politely’ contained, could transfer seals of pure chakra onto their opponents in the midst of battle. Unlike seals of ink, chakra seals couldn’t always be seen by normal eyes– they were going to have to bring in a Hyuuga to check him over, to make sure that whatever seal Uzumaki Fuyuko had paralysed him with was just that, a paralysing seal.

Fuyuko…

He had seen his once-charge weaving through the abandoned training ground turned bloody battlefield and the hammering of his heart had had little to do with the cloak of the Kyuubi’s chakra that clung to her, those malignant twisting tails of power radiating such intense malice, and far more to do with his fear of her small form amidst all that violence. He wanted so desperately to go to her but he had been ordered to stay back as the threat was assessed, nobody quite sure what was happening to the shinobi left on the ground in her wake.

Raidou had been beyond relieved when Fuyuko had retrieved a small masked figure from the fray and moved apart from where the fighting raged, a child that looked just as young as she was under his shattered mask. Fuyuko had lightly slapped him with a hand free from the Kyuubi’s chakra and when the boy had fallen over, motionless, just like the many other members of the not-ANBU Fuyuko had brushed up against had, he’d finally been confident that whatever she was doing, it wasn’t harmful– she had been his charge for four years, he knew what care looked like on her face and knew that she wouldn’t harm the boy.

He’d tried to approach her then, the memories of the last time he’d seen her almost overwhelming– Minato’s daughter in his arms, bleeding, her little face twisted in a terrible expression of fury and agony both, sharp teeth bared at him as he tried to apologise and she snarled, “not fucking good enough!” and he’d known, he’d known, she was right.

It wasn’t good enough. Nothing to do with how the twins, Minato’s children, had been treated was good enough. Hell, not even Kakashi’s treatment by the village in the aftermath of the Kyuubi Attack had been good enough. Kakashi was Minato’s son in all but blood, everyone knew that, and what did the village do to the grieving, verging on suicidal fourteen-year-old who’d lost every last piece of family he had, save for two infants he wasn’t even allowed to adopt? It stood back and allowed him to throw himself into ANBU.

(Not that Raidou could judge too hard. Not when he’d thrown himself into the anonymity of ANBU after That Night, after surviving his Hokage as no Hokage Guard ever should)

The only blessing in that mess was when Kakashi was assigned Jinchūriki duty. And then that all went sideways too. Fuyuko, somehow, managed to get attached to Kakashi, despite the fact he only interacted with her when someone was trying to hurt her or Naruto, then Kakashi had killed a kid in front of about thirty other kids, including the twins, and the Hokage (the Hokage, not his Hokage, Raidou’s Hokage had died, died so that this ungrateful village might live) had pulled Kakashi from Jinchūriki duty, had pulled him from ANBU duty, and Kakashi had disappeared.

Over a year and a half had passed with no sight of Kakashi in the village. And then, just as suddenly as he’d disappeared, Kakashi had returned, a half-mute, brown-haired boy trailing after him, and a new savage, feral grace to his movements; Kakashi had always been terrifying, the sort of talent and skill that came around once a generation, if that. After his time... away, Kakashi had been more than just terrifying, his every skill had been honed so sharp that even his fellow comrades would shy away, for fear of getting cut. Wherever Kakashi had been, they had broken whatever was left of the boy that remained, then sharpened those jagged pieces into blades and taught Kakashi how to wield them.

Monster, some part of Raidou whispered.

Another part of him, the part that remembered watching Minato slaughter thousands of Iwa shinobi in a single day, whispered, Kage.

Raidou had ignored both whispers, had ignored Kakashi’s new sharp edges and his socially-inept tag-along, instead attempting to fold Kakashi back into their group, though Kakashi had only ever orbited at the fringes, as if he’d never been gone. Kakashi never said where he’d been, never explained the boy– Tenzo’s– presence, but he did try to settle back into village life. Even if he wasn’t allowed to see the twins. Raidou thought the only reason Kakashi went along with his attempts at forced socialising were so he could be updated on the twins, the only way he could really circumvent his ban. Raidou did what he could, to try and tell Kakashi how the twins (Kakashi’s little siblings) were faring.

And then, less than a month after Kakashi’s return, Raido found himself forced to avoid the younger man as he carried a four-year-old to and from the Academy to be beaten and bullied by her Academy sensei. He couldn’t bear to look Kakashi in the eye, not knowing what he was allowing to happen. Not that he had any way of stopping it.

(Not when he hadn’t even tried)

And then... and then the Incident. He remembered it so clearly still. Fuyuko stabbed, bleeding, Naruto’s small hands bloody as the Academy sensei bled out on the ground, the snarled words from a little girl as he tried to apologise, words that haunted him yet (not fucking good enough!), and then Fuyuko was gone.

(Gone like Kakashi)

He had begged the Hokage, pleaded, even tried to threaten, but nothing changed the elder man’s mind. And for three years, Raido had avoided any mention of the twins near Kakashi, citing orders– not a lie– and forced himself to swallow down his guilt, his grief, to try and ignore how disgusted he knew Minato would be (how Kushina would tear him to shreds with her own bare hands).

Genma didn’t know the details, but he knew something had happened. Something that had caused Raidou to withdraw into himself, to avoid his friends, avoid Kakashi, to begin making reckless decisions on missions, taking unnecessary risks. It was Genma that forced him to hang up his ANBU mask, a year ago. Genma who dragged him to a Yamanaka for counselling, hard-eyed and stone-faced, refusing to lose Raidou too.

It had… helped. He still felt guilt, felt grief, felt a self-loathing that threatened to drown him, but he managed to reconnect with his old friends, even though he could never quite make himself reach out to Kakashi again.

And then… the battle in the village. The call of all available jōnin forces to respond. The sight before him, of Fuyuko, so pale and thin and yet fearless as she moved across a battlefield as though she belonged, of Kakashi, feral and furious and matching Elder Danzo move for move, blow for blow.

Raidou knew why Genma was angry. After the counselling, he’d promised to stop making reckless decisions, to stop taking unnecessary risks. But it honestly wasn’t even a conscious decision, approaching Fuyuko, dropping to his knees before her, the daughter of one of his best friend’s, his Hokage, the man he’d sworn to guard with his life and failed twice-over, by losing Minato and surviving. The little girl who had been his charge for four years, who he’d witnessed grow from a precocious infant to a young girl who was cold and sharp, like ice, yet who softened for those fortunate enough to find themselves under the banner of her affection.

He should never have believed that shy expression on her face. That soft, tentative happiness at identifying him. Fuyuko wasn’t shy, she wasn’t soft; she was a force of nature, a terrifyingly protective creature, and she had no pity for those who crossed her or her brother. He had just been too wrapped up in a fantasy where she didn’t just remember him but that she forgave him that he didn’t think to be wary of her, to be mindful of her small hands.

At least the paralysing seal didn’t hurt.

Not like it did when she stepped over him, without looking back once.

“You fucking mess,” Genma sighed, sitting down on the bed and running a hand through Raidou’s hair. Raidou didn’t even try to deny it. “So this is what’s had you so messed up, then?” his best friend asked quietly and Raidou nodded.

“Couldn’t talk about it,” he said, just as quietly. “Hokage’s orders.”

“She was sent to… him,” Genma didn’t even try to hide the loathing in his voice, “to train. Minato’s daughter. Sent to fucking Danzo.”

Genma had been part of Minato’s Hokage Guard too. He understood the loyalty Raidou felt to those two children, barred as he had been from approaching them without the excuse of ANBU duty, and Genma looked just as deadly-furious as Raidou felt.

“She didn’t want to be a shinobi,” Raidou was finally able to reveal, “weeks of attempts to… change her mind did nothing. Then the Academy sensei went too far while trying to force her to react and she used to Kyuubi’s chakra to heal herself. The sensei panicked, threw a kunai at her. I took her to the hospital and never saw her again. I was told not to inform anyone of her absence.”

“Well,” Genma said, dark amusement in his voice that matched the fury in his eyes, “it looks like Kakashi figured it out.”

Raidou finally managed to smile, the memory of Kakashi shoving a chidori in Danzo’s chest then ripping off the elder’s head lifting his mood slightly.

“You think he plans on coming back?” Genma asked.

“He will,” Raidou said confidently. “…if only to grab Naruto,” he added, seeing Genma’s sceptical look. Genma snorted softly.

When Kakashi did come back, Raidou knew, he would bring with him a reckoning, for all those involved in the deception of Fuyuko’s time spent with Danzo. Raidou knew he wouldn’t be spared the younger shinobi’s fury. He wouldn’t want to be.

(…these were probably the sort of thoughts he should be sharing with his therapist)

“Such a fucking mess,” Genma repeated, and Raidou wasn’t sure if Genma was talking about him still, or the situation, but either way he agreed.

~

Chapter Text

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, unfortunately uni has been an absolute bitch. It's going to continue being a bitch for the next two and a half weeks too. I just honestly couldn't deal with it today. But in two and a half weeks it will be over for three months and I can write as much as I want <3

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE:

The rage tasted bitter on Kakashi’s tongue. No, not rage– betrayal.

Kakashi had done everything for Konoha; he had killed his first man at age five, in service of the village, and his hands had only grown more bloodied since. He’d sacrificed his body, his heart, his very soul for the village he called home, and it would be those chains that dragged him down when death came for him.

He let Konoha tear him apart, flay the flesh from his bones, allowed the village to make a monster of him, the sort of monster that terrified other monsters, that the shinobi in other villages whispered of in awe and horror. He fought their wars, slaughtered his way through battlefields before he’d even lived a decade.

He’d donned a porcelain mask, given up his very identity and instead stepped into the shadows to become Inu and lead the sort of missions that would make even other jounin blanch. He followed his Hokage’s orders and let himself be dragged further down, dragged from the sunlight and then shadows, down to the dank, twisted roots in the dark below and let those roots wind around his neck like a noose, strangling the last, twisted scraps of humanity from him.

He would and had sacrificed everything about himself for his village, for his Hokage, and in return– in return they had done this.

Fuyuko was too light in his arms, too fragile. The traces of puppy fat he remembered clinging to rosy cheeks had long-since melted away, replaced by hollows and slim muscle, the kind that came from endless training. She was bone-white, sickly-pale in the way only Tenzo had been when they first met, the hair she had so loved now thin and lacking its well-tended lustre. And her eyes…

Minato and Kushina’s daughter had always had sharp, cold eyes, eyes that were always too alert, too knowing, too predatory for her age. Kakashi knew those eyes, had seen them in the mirror all his life.

He also recognised the eyes that had looked back at him in Danzo’s office. Recognised the hollow emptiness (had seen that look in the mirror too). And then, facing Danzo himself, as she forced the man to his knees… in that moment, Fuyuko’s eyes had been as endless and merciless as the ocean’s depths. There was nothing childlike left there. No, those had been the eyes of a shinobi– the eyes of a Kage.

And then– I am Uzumaki Fuyuko, she had declared as she cast aside her mask. And Kakashi, who had hidden behind the mask of Inu for so many years had finally heard a small voice inside his head, emboldened by the courage of this child, this packmate who had refused to be beaten down, who had looked for him, who had not abandoned him, speak up and say, I am Hatake Kakashi.

Watching Fuyuko on the battlefield, watching her stalk and hunt, watching wolves bigger than horses bow before her, following her orders, pride and horror had warred within Kakashi’s heart. The cub he remembered leaning into him for comfort, a puppy-soft whine in her throat, was gone; Fuyuko had shed what little remained of her childhood innocence and stepped up to become the alpha that the blood of Minato and Kushina was destined to be.

Seeing her, red hair whipping around her thin face as she seemingly-effortlessly controlled the twisting columns of bijuu chakra around her, it tightened his chest, made his heart falter. She was powerful, deadly, controlled; a perfect shinobi of Konoha– a perfect weapon. And that made something inside him howl in furious, impotent rage. What had they done to her!? What had they done to Minato and Kushina’s daughter, the blood of their beloved Hokage, the heiress to the Whirlpools!?

It turned his vision red. It made him want to bundle her up in his arms and take her as far away from Konoha as he could.

And so he’d done just that.

Tenzo had followed. Of course he had; Tenzo had loyalty and devotion to the ANBU squad that had adopted him carved deep into the marrow of his bones. And Gai had let Kakashi go without a fight, even though he was the only one outside of the Sandaime himself who had a real chance at stopping him, because Gai was steadfast in his trust of Kakashi. And his pack, his faithful summons, hovered at the edge of Kakashi's awareness, ready to be summoned back, to defend or attack, in a heartbeat. 

Kakashi knew the Hokage would be sending tracking and retrieval squads after them and his chest felt too tight, but it wasn’t out of panic. The vicious, sharp-toothed predator that hunted in his soul was howling its rage and fury, murderous and bloodthirsty, and Kakashi half-wondered if the orders were to bring him back alive or not. He found he didn’t care. Not when he knew what had been done to the too-small, too-thin little girl in his arms, on Sarutobi’s orders– or if not on his orders, at least due to his intentional ignorance.

Despite the rage, Kakashi had just enough self-control to know that attacking Konoha nin was crossing a line that he couldn’t take back if he wanted to return to Konoha. So, with some reluctance, he signalled to Tenzo to engage in evasive tactics; between Tenzo’s mokuton bloodline and Kakashi’s own knowledge of tracking, nobody would find them if they didn’t want to be found.

Of course, that wouldn’t be helpful if the Sandaime figured out where they were going– which was why they had to travel as quickly as possible if they were going to find Jiraiya before the teams sent by Konoha did.

~

Inu and Not-Kinoe didn’t speak as they ran, the gates of Konoha now far behind them, and the silence gave Sansa time to think. To process.

Everything had happened so quickly it felt as if she was little more than a wolf cub caught in the unyielding currents of a fast-moving river, its unrelenting tides threatening to drag her under. But Sansa was not just the blood of a wolf; she was a Tully, too, and she refused to drown.

The seal on the back of her neck pulsed like a living thing in time to the beats of her own heart. When she focused on it, she was peripherally aware of the thin, almost-strings of chakra that stretched out from the seal. She could trace one string back to where it led to Not-Kinoe. It felt like... like a spiderweb, almost, and she was the spider, perched at the centre, able to feel every quiver of every strand. The other strands of her web, she imagined, would lead her to the other Root agents.

...her Root agents. Because this seal Danzo had activated, the words he had left ringing in her head– the implications of it all was unmistakable.

Heiress.

He had made her his heiress.

She wouldn’t say a word to anyone, of course. She wouldn’t give the Hokage an excuse to gain any power over her, not when she’d only just escaped one master– and she had no intention of replacing the finally removed from her life Danzo with a weaker, more ineffectual version. But even when Root was, in the most likely scenario, absorbed back into Konoha’s shinobi forces, she would still be linked to them. She would always know who they were and where they were. She would always have power and authority over them. They would always feel loyalty to her.

They were hers. But she wasn’t Danzo. She wasn’t a shinobi trained to fight on the open battlefield, she wasn’t trained for open warfare. She was trained for infiltration, subterfuge, sabotage. She was trained to be the unseen spy, the assassin who killed in the shadows. Why would she build herself an army, when instead she could have her shinobi infiltrate Konoha’s ranks? And would the Hokage even really think much of her visiting all those old friends she’d grown so attached to–?

Sansa frowned, concern stirring inside her at the direction her thoughts had immediately spun out to. Why would she even want to keep Root, when she’d been trying so desperately to get away from it? Why would she even want an unseen shadow force? Why did it seem as if it was such a foregone conclusion to her, that she would take control of Root when she had never had even the slightest desire before? When her interest in shinobi matters started and ended with her brother alone?

You are my heiress.

Sansa felt a sudden, ice-cold fear rise within her. What had Danzo done to her? What had he done with that Mangekyo sharingan? She had never wanted to be Danzo’s heiress, she had never entertained any thoughts to the matter, and yet–

Yet.

Root washers now, for better or worse. And she’d already started to make plans for it, already started to make the accommodations. Why would she want to give up such an advantage, when it had fallen so easily into her lap?

No – no, no, no, it wasn’t an advantage, it wasn’t, she didn’t want it, she didn’t–

But think of what she could do–

Sansa let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, immediately falling back into her mindscape. When she opened her eyes within the godswood of her mindscape, she gasped in horror. The skies above her were burning in a thick, furiously spinning pattern of blood red and fathomless black, no misty winter grey to be seen. It was like something out of the Seven Hells and Sansa’s lungs felt as though they were being crushed in an iron grip as she staggered backwards, staring up, until her back was pressed up against the pale, twisting branches of the heart-tree that made up Kurama’s prison.

“What– what is that?” she could barely choke out.

The only answer was a spitting snarl that rattled the entire mindscape and as Sansa turned around, she was horrified to see Kurama pressed against the back of the prison, looking up at the sharingan-sky with horror and fear in their eyes, lips curled back, hackles raised. They looked the very picture of true terror in a way Sansa had never seen before and in a way she'd never dreamed they could.

“Evil!” They hissed, baring jagged fangs. “Abomination! Foul, twisted abomination!”

Sansa didn’t even hesitate to climb through the branches, rushing over to Kurama. “Can I touch you?” she was careful to ask. She knew better then to touch someone who was so upset without asking first. Kurama bowed their head, closing their eyes as they lowered themselves to the ground, curling up. Sansa carefully leaned against their muzzle, her back resting against the soft curve of their throat, trying to comfort them however she could. 

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asked softly. Kurama made a quiet rumbling noise.

“…maybe you could sing,” they said, after a moment. Sansa hid her smile.

“I can do that,” she said, clearing her throat before she started singing, ‘The Ice Queen of the North’. Kurama almost sounded impressed by her feat of executing so many people at the end of the ballad.

After she’d sung a few more Westerosi songs, mostly Northern ones as Kurama seemed to appreciate the more gruesome songs, they finally relaxed enough to order her to go wake up Mito from the seal. Sansa was reluctant to leave them, the memory of their panicked state still raw and fresh in her mind, but Kurama simply pushed her away from them and her tiny body wasn’t nearly big enough to stop them sending her sliding across the cage and into the branches that made up the prison walls. 

Now that Sansa knew how to precisely activate Mito's seal without overloading it to the point that it caused a near-explosion, it was a simple process in which her ancestress simply shimmered into existence. The moment Mito emerged from the seal, the small, warm smile she was wearing quickly turned to horror. "Oh gods," she breathed. 

“I know,” Sansa said helplessly. “I know.”

“What happened?” Mito asked, horrified, and Sansa began to explain, to her and Kurama both. When she got to the part about her killing Danzo and then Danzo using Kagami’s eye, Mito actually put her hand over her own eyes and started to weep. And then when she told them about the second Mangekyou sharingan and the seal on her neck, Kurama gave a blistering snarl and Mito went pale with rage.

“I can’t help with the Mangekyou sharingan,” Mito said darkly, “from what Kagami told me, it’s an instinctive thing, to know its boundaries and its weaknesses and how it works. But as for the seal, if Danzo activated it with blood then it’s a blood seal and he transferred ownership of it to you. That means only you can activate it now, so it’s only visible to you and only when you apply blood to it. If you trace it out for me, I can tell you exactly what it can do. Without using any chakra, of course.”

Sansa nodded, kneeling in the false-snow and, focusing on feeling the lines and curves of the chakra embedded in the seal on her neck, she traced the seal into the snow, careful not to add any chakra to the design.

Mito looked utterly disgusted. Sansa, who was surprised to realise she actually understood most of the building-blocks of the seal she was drawing, was disgusted too– there were tracking seals, silencing seals, suicide seals, obedience and heart-stopping seals, all combined into one slave seal. And she had the master seal, the seal that controlled them all.

“I wan–” Sansa’s mouth snapped shut, the words choking in her throat as her mind was suddenly bombarded with reasons why she couldn’t get it of the seal, why she couldn’t tell Mito I want it off, why she had to have it stay on. She looked helplessly up at Mito, unable to help the tears that welled up in her eyes. “Even in death, I’m not free of him,” she whispered. “Even in death, he still controls me. I can’t trust myself, or any decision I make. And that is terrifying.”

“The Sharingan is a twisted, ill-begotten curse,” Kurama snarled, “and the Mangekyou Sharingan is worse. The Uchiha who have used it to control me have wanted nothing but death and destruction.”

“…of course,” Sansa realised, with a rush of understanding, “Mito, you said it’s instinctive for Uchiha* to know the weaknesses of the Mangekyou sharingan– hopefully one of them will know how to break this– whatever this is– and then none of us will have to look at it again!” She gestured up at the sky. 

Above her, it burned.

~

Genma leaned casually against the wall of the Hokage’s office in a careful display of nonchalance as the ANBU, gave their report to the Hokage and Jōnin Commander, Nara Shikaku, while a second ANBU glanced over at him, seeming uneasy at his lax posture. He grinned at them, clicking the senbon he had in his mouth against his teeth, tasting the sharp sticky-tang of poison and causing them to tense up. Shikaku gave him a look and he rolled his eyes slightly and turned his attention back to the debrief– the first of many, he presumed.

So far, the tracking team hadn’t had any luck in tracking down Kakashi, Tenzo and Fuyuko. Neither had the retrieval teams. And they wouldn’t. Genma wasn’t sure why the Hokage had even bothered sending anyone after Kakashi, especially considering the head start– his ANBU Captain could be half-dead and bleeding out and he’d still be more then a match for them. Kakashi has always been the best of them– even little Itachi and Shisui, their other baby genii, hadn’t matched him.

Genma straightened up slightly as the two ANBU finally finished their reports and the Hokage, his fury and frustration barely hidden under a mask of geniality, turned to him. These last couple of days hadn’t been easy for the Sandaime, Genma knew, not with the loss of two Jinchūriki and the discovery of an Elder on the council, who also happened to be one of the Sandaime's Genin teammates, having been building a private army while committing bloodline theft and abducting clan children. Not to mention the Uchiha massacre hadn’t been that long ago. If he was a better person, Genma would feel sorry for the Hokage.

Genma was not a better person. Not even slightly. All Genma cared about was the broken look in Raidou’s eyes when he spoke about Minato’s daughter, the way his best friend had teetered on the edge of suicidal for years out of staggering, all-consuming guilt, all due to the monstrosities that Sarutobi had allowed be committed against Fuyuko, and now Genma believed the Sandaime had reaped what he’d sown. 

“Any leads on Naruto?” The Sandaime asked and Genma shook his head.

“We’re confident he’s in the village,” he reported. “But his ANBU watchers said he disappeared shortly before the confrontation with Elder Shimura went down– we suspect Kakashi contacted someone, asking them to hide Naruto during the confrontation, or that the person hiding Naruto is the one who alerted Kakashi to the fact that Uzumaki Fuyuko was in Elder Shimura’s care and then went to ground afterwards, knowing exactly how he would react to that.”

The Sandaime’s face went tight and Shikaku gave him a warning look which Genma understood. That had been pushing at the bounds of Sarutobi’s patience. But everyone in this room knew that the Sandaime knew about Danzo’s little army of brainwashed children turned into soldiers– it wasn’t like a Jinchūriki could just accidentally be misplaced.

“When you find whoever has Naruto, bring them to me,” the Hokage ordered and Genma bowed.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” he said, before leaving the office. Shikaku followed him out moments later.

“You’ve already found him, haven’t you,” Shikaku stated, not asked.

“I would never lie to my Hokage,” Genma said, while absolutely lying.

“We both know someone’s going to die for this mess,” Shikaku murmured. “Someone other than Danzo, considering Kakashi's already killed him. You’re protecting them, so they must be young. Probably from the Yūkaku, because it's clear you relate to them on some level– you feel protective of them, which isn't like you, not unless it comes to a certain type of child from a certain type of background. And you don’t want them killed for being the only one with the courage to speak up.”

Genma smiled, sharp and mean. “She’s the only one who didn’t find it too troublesome,” he said and watched in satisfaction as Shikaku’s eyes widened slightly.

He didn’t mind the Jōnin Commander. Really, he didn't. Shikaku had never treated him differently from any other shinobi, just because he was the result of some unknown shinobi’s liaison at a brothel in the Yūkaku, where Genma had subsequently spent his childhood years running around the streets. But that didn’t mean it was Shikaku’s business– and if Shikaku wanted to put it out there, Genma had no issues pointing out the fact that the Nara Clan apparently wasn’t above a roll in the sheets in the Yūkaku either. Because that girl, the one who was always with Naruto, she was a Nara through and through– both in looks and in brains, considering the way she was swiftly climbing up the yakuza ranks without insulting anyone badly enough to get her throat slit.

“Is Naruto safe?” Shikaku asked quietly, a tight, irritated look on his face that said he was about to very thoroughly question his clan as to who had been careless enough to father a bastard child and to not even realise they existed– or worse, to abandon them. Genma shrugged.

“No more or less then he’s always been,” he said. Shikaku looked even more irritated and Genma smiled at him again, an edge of mocking in it. “He’s a street kid, Nara-sama,” he said. “He’s a child of the Yūkaku. He has allies who will try to protect him and enemies who will try to prey on him. That’s how it works. And Naruto knows how it works. It’s his life. And once Kakashi’s back, he’ll get a message out to Naruto’s allies and Naruto will start attending the Academy again.”

“Chouza was the sensei of your genin team yet I learned more in the last five minutes about the community you grew up in then those two years,” Shikaku said, looking over at him thoughtfully. They had left the Hokage Tower now and were making their way through the bustling streets. of Konoha's marketplace.

“Because you didn’t want to know,” Genma told him honestly, “you didn’t ask. Nobody ever does. It makes them uncomfortable so they tell themselves that asking about it would make me uncomfortable and they never talk about it.” He clicked his senbon against his teeth again, felt the sharp edge slice into the soft inner skin of his cheek. His blood tasted warm and salty with a tang of spice from the poison as he grinned. “I’m not ashamed. I’ve never been ashamed. I’ve never forgotten my roots.”

There was a shrine to Inari-sama in his apartment that he prayed to before every mission. Once every quarter he donated part of his paycheck to the brothel where his mother had worked. He bought blankets and warm clothes in winter that he handed out to the children of the Yūkaku, because he remembered how being cold was worse then being hungry. But he remembered being hungry too– when he was young, before his Academy days during wartime, he once ate a dead rat caked in dirt that he “cooked” (charred was probably a better description) with an exploding tag he found in a training field, because he was literally starving to death. A few months later he’d joined the Academy, trading a life of servitude to the village for a steady income and at least he’d never known starvation again.

Shikaku looked back at him thoughtfully, dark eyes gleaming with intelligence. “No,” he said, “nobody ever asks, do they?”

He was talking about more than Genma’s own past now. And it was a dangerous thing to say, no matter how true it was. But nobody ever asked in Konoha; too afraid that if they did, they wouldn’t be able to keep up their facade as the “nicest” of the Hidden Villages. Too afraid of unearthing all the skeletons hidden in the soil under the fallen leaves. And there were just oh-so many skeletons under there, so many crushed and twisted and splintered bones just waiting to be unearthed.

And now Kakashi had started digging.

~

*yes, the Uchiha have been massacred (minus the women and children who weren't of Academy age, as we learned about in Kakashi's POV a few chapters back, but since that was a while ago, I thought I'd put in a reminder), but Sansa doesn't know about it. But yeah, I just thought I'd remind you because it was a while ago :)

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR:

Kakashi and Not-Kinoe didn't stop to make a camp until around midnight, by Sansa's estimate. They didn't light a fire, but they did set up safety traps and hidden snares for prey and dig a hole at the edge of the camp site.

Sansa was mortified to realise what the hole was for– she thought she was desensitised to being a shinobi, considering how accustomed she had become to murder, seduction, casual nudity, torture and even urinating on herself from the times when she'd been left hanging from chains for days on end, back when Danzo was trying to break her. Having a bowel movement so close to Kakashi and Not-Kinoe, while still in their line of vision, was still horrifying. Them having a bowel movement was even more horrifying. And the fact that they didn't seem at all perturbed? Sansa felt her cheeks flame red and very determinedly looked the other way and tried not to listen.

After the sheer mortification was over and the pit was filled back with dirt, Sansa was bundled between Kakashi and Not-Kinoe as they pressed together for body-heat. Sansa wanted to summon Lady, wanted to curl up in her thick, warm fur, but there was something desperate about the way Kakashi was holding her, the way his fingers were digging into her, that had her hesitating. If she didn't give him this excuse to hold her, she thought, she didn't think he would let himself have this.

On her other side, Not-Kinoe was much more delicate in how he held her. He was like Shin, when she'd first met him. Shin had been so awkward, and unsure. Never quite knowing where to put his hands. She had taught him how to relax, how to go with his instincts until he relaxed into running his fingers through her hair, winding his arm around her waist to tug her close and, if his mask was off, rub his cheek against hers.

Shin...

Sansa's heart ached and a whine trapped in her throat, soft and piteous. Kakashi went frozen-still behind her, before leaning forwards slightly to rub his cheek against the top of her head. Sansa could smell him; sharp and strong, like the air before a lightning strike and the fur of a hound. Like the scent she'd always associated with safety in this world. And even in the midst of her grief, in the knowledge that she'd been too late, that she hadn't broken the binding seals fast enough to save Shin, she felt herself relax.

When she eventually turned to her other companion, feeling rather rude by ignoring him, Not-Kinoe smiled at her, a bit stiff and awkward, but clearly trying. Even if he didn't have the seal she could feel connected to the master-seal on the back of her neck, Sansa would have been able to pick him out as one of Danzo's.

"I– I don't quite know what to say to you," she admitted, feeling a bit helpless and not liking it. "You rescued me and now we're on the run and you've done all this for me and– I don't even know your name. I've just been calling you Not-Kinoe in my head, because you were very firm about your name not being Kinoe!"

Not-Kinoe looked a little blindsided by the rush of words and Sansa hastily stopped talking to give him a chance to speak. "I choose to go by Tenzo now," he said shyly.

"Thank you, Tenzo-san," Sansa said softly, and Tenzo's cheeks turned pink.

"You're welcome," he said.

"You don't have to answer this, Tenzo-san," Sansa said quietly, "but... how did you get out of Root? I thought the only way out was death?"

Tenzo's eyes widened. "How– how did you know?" he asked, a thread of anxiety audible in his voice. Beside her, Kakashi had gone predator-still and Sansa carefully leaned into him, let Kakashi wrap one calloused hand around her shoulder, his thumb brushing against the steady pulse of her slender, fragile neck.

"You think I can't recognise another member of Root?" She asked, keeping her voice soft, gentle. "I know what the children in there were growing up to be like. I know what the adults who had been raised in there were like. You're growing out of the mannerisms, but you haven't quite grown out of them yet, Tenzo-san."

Tenzo nodded slowly, accepting her explanation. Not that it was a lie, just not the full truth. "I was in Root," he admitted. "I met Kakashi-taichou there. He... taught me that there was more to life then Root. It was the first time I ever disobeyed an order. Then three years ago, I was released from Root and given over to ANBU, under Hokage-sama's command."

And Sansa went still.

"Three years ago," she said, ever so softly.

"Yes," Tenzo confirmed.

"And were you given a reason why?" she asked, feeling the tension within her rise.

Tenzo hesitated slightly, seemingly reading the growing emotion on her face.

"I assumed... I assumed that Danzo-sama had no need for a defective tool. That because I disobeyed, he had no use for me any longer," he said carefully. Sansa closed her eyes and took a deep breath, because it wasn't Tenzo's fault and she didn't want him to think that she was angry at him.

"I think," she said, in as calm a voice as she possibly could force, "that three years ago, Danzo traded you in the ANBU forces for me in Root."

A snarl ripped out of Kakashi's chest, guttural and dangerous. His grip on her shoulder turned to iron, but it didn't tightened, his control was too good for that. When Sansa opened her eyes, it was to see that Tenzo had paled; he looked horrified and suddenly so young and helpless. Because he was young, Sansa though; just in his mid-teens, and an unknowing pawn in the games of powerful men.

"It's not your fault," she told him fiercely. "I don't blame you." Feeling the hand on her shoulder clench slightly, she turned to look up at Kakashi and narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't blame you either," she said, just as fierce.

Kakashi shook his head, nothing but self-loathing on what little of his face she could see. "I failed you, though," he said quietly, hoarsely. "I didn't fight hard enough. I let them stop me seeing you, I didn't... I didn't even try. I didn't even know you were gone, that you'd been gone for three years, until a child told me, a civilian who approached me on the streets and said you'd asked her to keep watch for an ANBU with the Inu mask..." he trailed off, a helpless, hopeless look on his face.

"You had gone missing," Sansa explained quietly, "I stopped feeling your chakra, and when I asked about you Tora's chakra," or rather Namiashi Raidou's chakra, she supposed, "would get all panicked and angry and upset. I didn't exactly have access to expansive resources to find you, but I used what I had."

And she was glad of it, now. Apparently she owed Suzuki Tama for continuing her efforts, even when Sansa– and her money– had disappeared.

Also, if she'd got the timing of Tenzo's story right, apparently Root was responsible for Kakashi's sudden absence– which was just another reason why she was glad that Danzo was now dead.

"...but why?" Kakashi asked hoarsely. "Why would you look for me? What have I ever done for you?"

Sansa looked at him in slight bewilderment.

"You've protected my brother and I all our lives," she said. "You want us. You're our Pack."

Kakashi flinched away from her, something desperately vulnerable visible in his single (Stark) grey eye even as his scent soured in terror and grief and something terribly like hope.

Sansa kindly did not push, allowing Kakashi to shut down, burying his emotions the way Arya would when she became overwhelmed, reverting to an expressionless mask, nothing but cold blankness. When Arya was in such a state, protecting herself from vulnerability by sinking deep into her Faceless Man training until there was very little left about her that was human, Sansa knew to keep her close, keep her with her pack, her family, but without forcing it on her, letting her drift around the edges until she found herself again, providing an anchor without a chain.

She could give Kakashi that same space. She could carefully curl against him, let him rest his hand against the curve of her neck while she leaned against his shoulder, let Tenzo carefully wrap his arm around her waist so that his fingers brushed against Kakashi's back, and bundled between the heat and safety radiating off them both Sansa let herself finally drift off to sleep.

As the sun rose the following morning, painting the sky in soft, rosy shades of pink and orange, Sansa was the last to wake; both Kakashi and Tenzo talking above her in low voices. Tenzo's arm was still gently wrapped around her and Sansa's face was pressed against the curve of Kakashi's neck with his hand in her hair. She quickly sat up, leaning forwards to rub her cheek against Kakashi's, even if it was behind a mask, before instinctively leaning across to do the same to Tenzo. She and Tenzo both froze for a moment before they both went red and pretended it never happened, Tenzo turning back to Kakashi and continuing their conversation.

"According to the last report the Hokage received," Kakashi said, sounding a little bit too amused, "Jiraiya should be about a day's run North of here."

Sansa's eyes narrowed. Jiraiya– she remembered him. The Hokage hadn't wanted to let him take custody of her and Naruto and he had agreed but on the condition that Danzo was banned from having any hand in raising them, though he clearly hadn't bothered to actually check and make sure that the Hokage followed through on his word. And for his negligence, it wasn't Jiraiya who paid the price.

Sansa could forgive Kakashi because Kakashi had been a child who had had no legal rights to them, and yet despite that, he had still been around, he had still protected them and he had still fought for them, had tried to gain custody. Jiraiya had been chosen by their parents to look after them, he had had a legal responsibility to them which he had given up, and he had then abandoned them, turning around and never looking back. That abandonment? She could not forget it. And she would not forgive it.

"Why do we need this Jiraiya?" she asked, a touch sharper then she meant to, only just remembering that she shouldn't know the connection between her, Naruto and Jiraiya. Kakashi hesitated for a moment then clearly decided that it was a secret not worth keeping.

"He's technically your legal guardian," he said. For a moment, Sansa's chakra lashed out, icy enough to burn and shattering the ground beneath her feet before she reeled it back in, taking deep, calming breaths.

"My apologies," she said, through sharp, gritted teeth. "Please continue."

Continuing looked like it was the last thing Kakashi felt like doing. He did so anyway. "Jiraiya travels a lot for his duties for Konoha," he said, very carefully. "He left instructions for your care. Part of those instructions involved not letting Danzo be involved in raising or training you. As he is one of the Hokage's students as well as your legal guardian, I hope that if we bring him back with us to confront the Hokage there will be some significant leeway afforded to us, in regards to the whole... situation."

Sansa frowned. "Shouldn't the bloodline theft and secret army of stolen clan children and orphans be enough?" she asked.

"It would be," Kakashi said, "if I'd known about that before I attacked Danzo. And although I suspected from my time in Root, I only knew about you. And the Sandaime isn't going to be happy with me about uncovering Danzo's transgressions, so I have to prove that what was happening with you was illegal too, that just because the Hokage sanctioned it, doesn't mean it was sanctioned."

"Alright," Sansa nodded. "Fine. Let's find Jiraiya." She then smiled. "But I know a faster way to travel then running."

She'd been wanting to thank the wolves for their assistance with Root anyway.

~

They reached the town Kakashi was talking about by late noon. They parted ways with the wolves several miles out, not wanting to raise any sort of alarm by approaching with such large predators, and Sansa thanked the wolves for their aid, kissing Tsukiko and Miyuki, a snow-white wolf with brilliant blue eyes that had helped in the fight against Root and Danzo, on their large muzzles, before they returned to the spirit-realm.

"Do you know any henges?" Kakashi asked her before they started heading for the town and Sansa shook her head.

"My chakra was bound from the day I was taken," she explained, shuddering at the memory of how dead the world had felt, "I only managed to break the seals during the fight in Danzo's office. But my chakra control is quite good and I'm experienced with disguises, so if you demonstrate the hand-signs to me, I should be able to achieve it."

Kakashi and Tenzo both exchanged brief looks that she couldn't quite make out before Kakashi knelt down so he was closer to her eye level. "The hand-signs are Dog, Boar, Ram," he explained, demonstrating them slowly. Sansa nodded, copying them without chakra until he nodded his approval. "You need to picture in exact detail what you want to look like and let the illusion slide over you."

"Okay," Sansa nodded, determined. It took her several tries, but eventually she managed to get her chakra settled how she wanted it, after getting Kakashi to demonstrate and feeling with her own chakra how he shaped his. She copied Kaeru's face and figure, mostly, but delighted in creating a simpler version of one of the Southron hair-styles from her lost past; multiple braids of long, auburn hair pinned in elegant loops on the back of her head. Her kimono was a simple, common yet elegant design; white with pink and red cherry blossoms and a red obi that folded neatly into a red bow.

When they entered the town, Tenzo acted as her brother and chaperone, while Kakashi acted as her betrothed and they booked into the inn then they pretended to wander through the town while Sansa led them in the direction of the strongest chakra signature for leagues. Shockingly, it was located in a bar. Of course her godfather would be a drunkard.

As they entered the bar where the strong chakra signature was located, Sansa fought the urge to narrow her eyes. This close, it was clear to her there was something off about the chakra around her. She wasn't sure what, but her instincts had her feeling uneasy and she'd learned to listen to her instincts. Her hand was gracefully placed over Kakashi's, still playing the betrothed couple ruse, so she tapped out the code for 'potential trap' on his arm, grateful that this at least was something useful Root had taught her. Kakashi didn't stiffen, but he did twist his arm around to catch her hand in his and squeezed twice– confirmation that he understood her warning.

Jiraiya was sitting at a booth tucked away in the back of the bar, out of earshot and eyeshot of the rest of the patrons, next to a rather pretty young woman; thin and delicate-looking, with nervous, fluttering hands. She looked uncomfortable as they approached and Jiraiya frowned at them. "What are you doing here?" He groused. "Shouldn't you be in Konoha? I heard you made a real mess of things there."

"Mm," Kakashi agreed, sliding into place in the seat next to Jiraiya, "I don't suppose any of your informants have informed you why I made a mess?"

"Nobody's interested in what started it," Jiraiya snapped, apparently more frustrated then he'd originally appeared. "They're more interested in the shit-show that followed. Bloodline-theft, a secret army of stolen clan-children, unsanctioned missions–"

"And all the stolen orphans, street rats and bastard children born from whores," Sansa added softly, but no less cutting for it. "Though I'm not surprised you forgot to mention them. After all, they're very easy to overlook. I imagine it's how he got away with it for so long. Nobody cares about the likes of us."

"Us?" Jiraiya's eyes sharpened. So did his companion's, who no longer looked at all shy or nervous. "You're Root?"

"Yes," Kakashi said, and the snarl in his voice was just barely contained. "Shouldn't you say hello to your goddaughter, Jiraiya?"

It was almost satisfying to see the colour drain from Jiraiya's face.

No, actually– it was satisfying.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes," Kakashi said mercilessly.

"Sensei wouldn't," Jiraiya protested. "He promised."

"He lied," Sansa said flatly, letting enough of Kurama's chakra flare to turn her eyes fire-bright and slit-pupiled for a heartbeat. "Does that surprise you?"

Jiraiya let out a shaky breath, his head falling forwards onto his hands. Sansa looked pitilessly at him for a moment before turning her attention to his companion, studying her. The longer she'd sat here, the more she was convinced– the wrongness that she'd been feeling since she'd entered the bar was coming from this woman. Because her chakra felt like a civilian's, but this woman wasn't a civilian. Not with how she'd been listening with rapt attention, not with how she'd gone stiff and sharp-eyed when Sansa had used Kurama's chakra, just the barest scent of wariness, the slightest tang of fear.

Not with how still she'd gone at the mention of Root.

"So, what alias are you using here, kunoichi-san?" She asked with a polite smile. The woman blinked.

"That's quite presumptuous of you, kunoichi-san," she said, in a very whispery sort of voice.

"I'm rather sick of lies," Sansa replied. "I'm sure you can understand why."

The shinobi in disguise looked at her for a moment before dipping her head. "I'm going by the alias Setsu," she said softly, and Sansa was very aware of how Kakashi and Tenzo were watching their exchange closely.

Setsu– meaning loyalty, faithfulness, fidelity. An interesting choice of name, especially for someone hiding their chakra and wearing a disguise.

Then again, was Sansa not doing the very same?

"A pleasure to meet you, Setsu-san," Sansa greeted her politely. "I am going by Sansa."

"A pleasure, Sansa-san," Setsu murmured.

"Why are you here, Kakashi?" Jiraiya demanded, apparently running out of patience.

"To get you to fix your mess," Kakashi said coldly.

"You mean to get me to fix your mess," Jiraiya corrected.

"His mess?" Sansa hissed, abandoning her study of Setsu for the moment and turning back to the white-haired man she'd been doing her best to ignore, for fear of the poison that would drip from her mouth. "You abandoned us, our sole teenage caretaker was viciously murdered for being our caretaker, the orphanage threw us out, the Hokage traded me off to that monster Danzo, Naruto was left alone to be raised by whores and criminals while I was raised alongside a child I would one day have to murder or be murdered by, and then– then Kakashi saved me! Not you! Not the village! Kakashi did! And now you, the person my parents trusted to love and provide for and protect Naruto and I, says that the he should have just left me there instead? Minato would be ashamed."

Jiraiya, who had been steadily paling as she flayed him with her words, blanched. "How do you know that name!?" he demanded, as if she was the one in the wrong.

Kakashi, meanwhile, had moved faster than Sanaa's eyes could track, clearing the table the moment Minato's name had left her lips and grabbing the woman by the neck, a kunai pressed to her throat. But he wasn't faster than the woman– moving just as quickly as he had, she had a kunai in her hand the very second he'd moved, with its sharp edge now pressed up against the artery in Kakashi's thigh. 

Tenzo and Sansa both froze, but Jiraiya didn't seem perturbed.

"Relax, Kakashi," he said tiredly. "She's one of Konoha's highest ranked spies, only here for information about Danzo, she's not a threat to the twins' safety. Her security clearance is probably higher than yours. We can trust her."

"This is Minato and Kushina's daughter we're talking about," Kakashi said icily. "Are you willing to bet her life on that trust?"

"I am," Jiraiya said firmly. "She's loyal to Konoha."

"That's interesting," Kakashi said, his tone almost mocking. "Because last I heard, Uchiha Itachi was an S-rank missing-nin."

A/N: Surprise! Another update! And a cliffhanger, because I'm cruel like that! But I love you all, really - thank you for all the lovely comments, even if I don't reply, please know that I read and appreciate them all xoxo

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE:

"Fuck," Jiraiya said, sounding truly done with everything. "Fucking goddamn child prodigies."

"You think I wouldn't recognise my own kohai's chakra? No matter how he tries to hide it?" Kakashi asked, in a low, dangerous voice. Sansa could recognise that something was very wrong right now, because Tenzo had gone deathly still, Kakashi looked like he was about to snap and 'Setsu' looked like he might... shatter to pieces, actually. There was something very broken about her– his?– chakra. 

"Look, Kakashi–" Jiraiya begun, but Kakashi let out a sound that was more animal then human.

"I want the truth, Jiraiya," he snarled. "I want to know why I was told a member of my team cracked and massacred most of his fucking clan when apparently he's a trusted spy!"

"What?" Sansa asked, stunned. "What are you talking about?" She hadn't heard anything about any massacred clans in Konoha, and that felt like something that she should have been told.

"Danzo didn't tell you?" 'Setsu'... or rather, Uchiha Itachi asked quietly.

"He didn't," Sansa admitted. "What happened?" 

"Most of the Uchiha clan are dead," Jiraiya told her, after a brief pause in which he glanced over at the other three. Tenzo was still completely non-verbal, staring wide-eyed at Itachi, Kakashi was still glaring murderously and Jiraiya seemed to think it better not to ask Itachi to tell the story. "The only ones left alive were the civilian women and the young, pre-Academy age–"

"–children," Sansa finished for him, her voice barely a whisper.

Jiraiya frowned. "Yes, with the one exception of Itachi-kun's brother. I thought you said you hadn't heard about it?"

"I hadn't," Sansa said, closing her eyes as understanding dawned painfully over her. "Not precisely. But Danzo and I were having tea one day and he asked... he asked me what I would do, if I knew a clan was planning on overthrowing the village leadership," she opened her eyes again, to meet Itachi's. "Treason deserves death," she said quietly, "and that is what I told him... but I did say that I would spare the non-combatant women and children."

There was a dawning understanding now on Kakashi and Tenzo's faces now, while Itachi bowed his head and Jiraiya just looked grim. "The Uchiha were planning a coup," Kakashi said, finally lowering his kunai from Itachi's throat. Itachi lowered his kunai from Kakashi's thigh a moment later.

"They were," he said quietly. "And I was given my orders."

"Then why are you a missing-nin?" Tenzo asked, confused, and Itachi's smile was a false and terrible thing.

"Because Konoha is the nice village," he said wretchedly and Sansa met his eyes.

"I won't apologise," she told him. "If your clan was so dissatisfied with the village then they should have left. When the village was founded and the village charter was written up, there was legislation and amendments included in it that allows clans to secede from Konoha. There are many other villages in the Elemental Nations who would have welcomed the Uchiha in and protected them from retribution. It would still be treason in the eyes of Konoha's leadership, but there's a difference between seeking independence from unjust rule and turning on your liege lord."

"I agree," Itachi said quietly. "That is why I approached the Hokage with concerns about the plans my Clan was making. I wished to prevent civil war from breaking out within the village, even though I was aware of the price my clan would pay for my choice of going forward."

"I don't know if Konoha deserves such loyalty," Sansa admitted. "But I admire you for it. It's always the innocents who suffer when the high-born go to war."

Itachi's mouth curved slightly. "I admire you as well," he said. "Not everyone can claim to influence Danzo the way you did."

"Influence him?" Sansa repeated, startled by the ridiculous conclusion that Itachi had somehow drawn. "It would be far more accurate to say he spent three years influencing me, twisting my thoughts in ways I still don't quite realise and understand." And wasn't that a stinging blow to her pride, one that would smart for some time yet.

"And yet," Itachi said quietly, "apparently you are the reason my orders were changed."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Sansa said.

"My original orders," Itachi told her, a distant, haunted look settling over his face– or rather, the pretty face of his henge, "were to eliminate every man, woman, child and unborn babe of the Uchiha Clan. The only survivor was to be my younger brother. And then, quite suddenly, those orders changed. I don't think I can quite describe my relief... or my gratitude."

Sansa... Sansa didn't quite know what to say. 

Except she did, didn't she?

"I hate to call on that gratitude so soon, as it feels as if it cheapens it and I honestly don't mean it to do such," she said hesitantly, "but I need to speak to an Uchiha about the Sharingan, and I assume that at this point you would be the foremost living expert now?"

Itachi frowned. "I would be, yes," he said, and Sansa could see that the silent spectators to their conversation were leaning in, sharp-eyed with renewed interest.

Sansa focused, channelling her chakra into the storage seal on her arm, removing from it the two Mangekyou Sharingan. "I took these from where they were implanted in Danzo's body," she said quietly. Itachi inhaled sharply, reaching for the bright crimson eye.

"Shisui," he breathed. Sharp gasps echoed around the table.

"He wouldn't," Kakashi said in disbelief. "Not even Danzo could... he wouldn't."

Sansa didn't understand what was so significant about Danzo having this Shisui's eye, but it seemed to be an enormous shock to the other three. She had a feeling things weren't going to get much better.

"It does something special, right? Because it's evolved from the original Sharingan– it's a Mangekyou Sharingan," she said and Itachi nodded slowly.

"Kotoamatsukami," He said softly. "One of the most powerful genjutsu techniques that exist. It's considered to be so dangerous because victims don't even realise that it's been used on them; they believe any implanted memories or ideas are their own. Shisui... he was going to use it on my father and the Elders, when discussions of a coup first came up, to get such talks shut down once and for all. This was nearly a year and a half before the... the massacre actually took place.

"Instead... instead I found him dying by the Naka River, one eye missing, torn from his eye-socket... he gave me the second, told me to protect both the village and the Uchiha name, then jumped off a cliff into the Naka River. I never found out what happened to his other eye. I always suspected... well, I always suspected one of the elders in the clan had demanded he use it on the Hokage," Itachi admitted. "And that when Shisui refused, they tried to... force the issue."

"Wrong elder," Jiraiya said grimly. "What about the other eye?" He gestured to the one Sansa was still holding. "How much trouble is that one going to cause?"

"That depends on just how sentimental your dear sensei still is towards his precious genin teammates," Sansa said darkly. "I know he's sentimental– well, was sentimental– enough about Danzo that he allowed Danzo's attempted assassination of him to slide with no consequences–"

"He what!?" Jiraiya snarled.

"How do you even know about that?" Kakashi asked, sounding shaken.

"Danzo and I had tea– he was lecturing me about the dangers of attachment when you're in a position of leadership," Sansa dismissed, before turning back to the topic at hand, "this," she said, lifting her hand holding the eye, "belonged to Uchiha Kagami. His Mangekyo Sharingan evolved when he witnessed his wife die on a mission. The following mission, Danzo claimed they were ambushed and Kagami's body was never recovered."

"How do you know all that information, about the ambush and Uchiha Kagami?" Jiraiya demanded.

"I told you," Sansa said, inserting a touch of impatience into her voice, "Danzo and I had tea." She paused, wondering how to spin this next part to get what she wanted, then said, "I just want to be sure he didn't use the Kotoamatsukami on me. Is there any way to check?"

"A Yamanaka could try," Jiraiya said with a frown, "but I'm not sure they'd know what to look for. Don't kill me for this, Kakashi, but Itachi is probably the one who'd know what to look for best."

Kakashi looked like he wanted to rip Jiraiya's head off for even daring to say the words out loud. Unfortunately for Kakashi, Jiraiya's suggestion was exactly the one Sansa had wanted someone to make.

"I think it's a good idea," she said softly.

"I would not harm her," Itachi added, and he sounded sincere. "You have my word."

"If you do," Kakashi said, quiet and dangerous. "I will rip your brother apart with my bare hands. Do you understand?" Itachi tensed up then forcibly relaxed himself.

"I understand, taichou," he murmured. Sansa reached over to squeeze Kakashi's hand.

"I'll be fine," she promised, before turning to look into Itachi's eyes. As she watched, they turned from the henged olive brown to a coal black that then spun into pinwheeled crimson red before blurring to a strange black-red pattern that seemed to suck her in.

Moments later, Sansa found herself in her mindscape, standing in the godswood. Above her, the sky still burned bloody red and fathomless black. Itachi stood before her, looking around in wonder at the woods that surrounded them, bone-white weirwoods with their canopy of deep red leaves amidst soft snowfall.

"It usually looks nicer," Sansa admitted and Itachi looked down at her in surprise.

Itachi looked very different when he wasn't henged. Younger, for one– he looked barely three-and-ten, with his long dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin. His features were very fine and his face was very sad. There were bloody tears streaking down his hollow cheeks and Sansa couldn't help but feel a sincere grief for him, for the horrors he'd been forced to commit. Such chains he wore around his soul, such horrors that dragged him down.

"I've never seen a mindscape quite like this," Itachi said softly as he stared at one of the weeping crimson faces carved into the trunk of a weirwood tree.

"Do you want to meet the Nine Tails?" Sansa offered, deciding not to give Kurama's name to one who had not asked for it. It didn't seem polite.

"Somehow, I don't believe it would be happy to see me," Itachi said dryly.

"They prefer they/them pronouns," Sansa corrected. "But you're probably right. The sky is putting them in a bit of a... mood lately." She sighed, looking up at it. "I don't blame them for it, either."

"You lied, to them all," Itachi said softly. "You knew Danzo used the Kotoamatsukami on you."

"It was fairly obvious," Sansa said, with a grimace. "He used the Kotoamatsukami on me moments before Kakashi... removed his head from his neck. I know you said victims don't even realise that it's been used on them, but perhaps it was different for me because I'm a Jinchūriki with a highly developed mindscape. Because I could hear him using it. He said..." she hesitated for a moment, her hand moving to the seal on the back of her neck. She could almost feel the phantom lines of seals leading off it, like puppet strings for her to pull.

"What did he say?" Itachi asked, stepping forwards, one of his hands hovering until she nodded her permission and he let it rest gently on her shoulder.

"He said I was his heiress," Sansa said softly. "He said 'You are the heiress to my empire. You are the heiress to my ideals. You are the heiress to my Will of Fire'." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "He always treated me differently," she admitted in a whisper. "I made an... impression on him, right from the start. It wasn't intentional but debating the economics of trade during wartime and the morality of serving the village at the cost of your humanity at four years old was enough to pique his interest. And I didn't lose it. Despite my hatred for being a shinobi, I unfortunately picked up on both the physical and mental aspects of the training quite well. I graduated from the new recruit program around eleven months after the Hokage so kindly handed me over into Danzo's care."

Here, she gave a twisted smile. "To graduate is intended to kill our humanity," she explained. "We're raised and trained alongside another child our age. We spend every moment of our days together, until we're pitted against each other in a fight to the death. I never even knew her name. I just knew her by her mask. Usagi. The first time I saw her face was when I took it off her corpse."

Itachi looked at her solemnly and Sansa took another shuddering breath before continuing.

"I wasn't assigned a normal mentor, though it took me over a year to realise that," she said quietly. "My mentor didn't just teach me shinobi skills. She taught me everything I needed to know to blend in as a noble lady in a Daimyo's court. And Danzo continued to teach me strategy, politics, history and warfare over tea. He was always grooming me, right from the very beginning. I should have realised. I should have known.

"And I did know, when Kakashi and Tenzo attacked him, that if it looked like I had an injury that possibly endangered my life, he would come straight for me, to try and save me. So I cut just below my throat with a broken pen so it looked as if I was bleeding out. It was how I got him to let down his guard so I could stop his heart with a seal. He didn't care for me, he didn't form attachments to individuals, but he had spent years grooming his replacement, his investment, and he wasn't about to let me die.

"The problem is," Sansa continued, "I don't want Root. I don't want any of his legacy. I don't want to be a shinobi." She looked fiercely up at Itachi. "There is no point to this endless cycle of violence– there is no justice in this world unless we make it. Which is why I need this genjutsu broken. And I don't know if anyone but another Uchiha can break it."

Itachi was silent for a long moment before he looked down at his hand, the one that wasn't on her shoulder. Sansa looked down too and realised he was still holding Shisui's eye, even in the mindscape. After a long moment, Itachi looked back up.

"I can do it," he said quietly. "But I will need a medic-nin first."

~

When Tama-neechan told him he was going to be skipping the Academy for a couple of days, Naruto didn't think too much of it. Sometimes she needed help with jobs the Yaks had given her– she liked to call him her enforcer and he'd finally learned what that meant and in the past few years he'd gotten good at using the red burning stuff she called chakra to scare people who tried to mess with her when she and some of the other boys were rolling up cigarettes or pouring alcohol for their bosses.

Naruto had gotten good at helping them too– he was especially good at sniffing out when the alcohol had been messed with, whether it had been watered down or if bad stuff had been added, even though the strong scent of it stung his nose. But Waka-gashira would always give him extra money when he found tampering and extra money was always good, even after he'd split it with Tama-neechan– she was his boss, after all.

So he wasn't surprised when she told him he was skipping, but when she took him to Baabaa's instead of one of the warehouses or basements where they did their work, Naruto immediately knew something was wrong.

Baabaa was the oldest lady Naruto had ever seen, with arms and legs like twigs, sagging wrinkles, stringy white hair and a voice like the croaking of a murder of crows– or at least that's how Tama-neechan had described it, and Naruto liked how creepy it sounded. Baabaa had been alive before Konoha had even been built. Naruto thought she had probably been an old lady then too, but Tama-neechan didn't think so and Tama-neechan was probably right. Everybody in the Yūkaku called her Baabaa and knew to be nice to her.

"Nobody lives that long," Tama-neechan had explained, "unless they're downright terrifying. She's got as many wrinkles as people have tried ta kill her. Remember that, Komorebi-chan." Naruto had nodded solemnly, because Baabaa had a lot of wrinkles.

Baabaa's house was small and smelled really strong and sort of spicy-smoky. Tama-neechan called it incense and muttered a lot about wanting to know which gods Baabaa prayed to so she could pray to them too. 

Baabaa told the coolest stories. Naruto liked the one about the princess bunny and the moon the best, even if it was a bit scary and a lot sad. Baabaa told him about how once there was a lonely princess bunny who ate a forbidden fruit to get special powers to save the other bunnies. But even when she got the power and saved the bunnies, she never stopped being lonely. Then her sons kept stealing power from her until they'd taken all the power from their mama and turned her into a scary monster. That scared them so much they cast a spell which locked her far away on the moon, where she was even more lonely and stuck forever.

Naruto liked that story best because even though the princess bunny was lonely, like he was a lot, she still saved the other bunnies. She was still a hero. Sometimes, when he looked up at the moon, he wondered if he could be as brave and heroic as the lonely princess bunny. Because when he looked around at Konoha, sometimes he just hated. He had his precious people, the people that he loved and cared for, but Konoha had taken his Ko-ane and Ka-ane and his secret parents.

Just like Ko-ane had told him about how his mama was a princess of a place called Uzushio, she'd also told him how his papa was one of the Hokages they talked about at the Academy, the Yondaime, except he couldn't tell anyone about it because it was their special secret and Naruto had promised he wouldn't tell and he'd never break a promise to his Ko-ane. He just missed them all so much though, and it felt like there was nobody he could miss them with. He even missed Inu and Tora! Why had they all left him?

"Are you thinking sad thoughts again?"

Naruto jumped and squeaked, almost falling off his perch on the ledge of Baabaa's kitchen window, facing out towards the veggie garden. "Tooth-pick man!" he accused, pointing at the bandana-wearing man with the funny tooth-pick in his mouth that kept popping up around the place. "Why ya gotta keep appearing outta nowhere," he complained.

"Maybe you're just not observant enough," tooth-pick man teased. Naruto pouted.

"Am too!" he complained. "I'mma ninja!" he puffed out his chest. "I'm in the 'cadamy!"

"Really?" Tooth-pick man looked impressed and Naruto nodded proudly.

"Yeah, dattebayo!"

"Shouldn't you be in class then?" Tooth-pick man asked and Naruto's eyes widened– whoops!

"Um," he said, "I have ta help out today! Baabaa ain't feelin' so good, an' she needs me, but I'm just takin' a quick break. I gotta go back in an' help her soon."

Tooth-pick man smiled. "I'm sure Baabaa appreciates your help," he said.

"What I don't appreciate is you lurking around like a no-good lurker," Baabaa grumbled and Naruto almost fell off the windowsill a second time as Baabaa appeared out of nowhere behind tooth-pick man and hit him across the back of his calves with her walking stick. "What no-good business are you up to now, Genma?" she demanded.

"Just passing on my wisdom to the next generation, Baabaa!" Tooth-pick man said cheerfully.

"Git!" Baabaa ordered and tooth-pick man gave a hasty bow, did some fancy footwork to avoid another blow of the walking stick and waved at Naruto as he left.

"He's super weird, Baabaa," Naruto said solemnly, peering after the disappearing man, and Baabaa laughed croakily.

"Oh, he is," she agreed. "But he's a good one. Remember that, Komorebi-chan." Naruto shrugged but hopped down off the ledge, ducking the lethal walking stick as he did so, copying how tooth-pick man had done a little side-ways step-and-skip.

Okay, so maybe there had been some wisdom that the tooth-pick man had passed on after all.

A/N: So I have regrets. So many regrets. I should be doing 1) my final assignments, 2) revision for my flag-test, 3) revision for my exams. But I'm really obsessed with this story right now. Whoops :D Anyway, hope you enjoyed! 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX:

As Sansa blinked, the godswood dissolving around her, replaced instead by the bar she had been seated in what felt as if it had been hours ago; Kakashi, Tenzo and Jiraiya looked frozen in time, as if they hadn't moved at all. 

Itachi had warned her it would be so, that he controlled how much time would pass in her mindscape under his technique. It was equal parts a thrilling and terrifying notion. If Sansa was in possession of such a skill she could only dream of the seals she would know now, under Mito's tutelage, and all the sleep she could have caught up on over the years. 

She had barely finished this thought when Kakashi had pulled her behind him, his one visible eye narrowed dangerously in Itachi's direction. Sansa could read how Itachi tensed slightly and couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He'd had to do a terrible thing on the orders of his liege lord and now his brothers-in-arms were treating him as a traitor when in truth he was loyal to the bone. What a truly wretched situation.

"It's okay," she said softly, reaching for Kakashi's hand, the one not clenched white-knuckled around a kunai, and lifting it so his palm was resting on her neck, where his thumb could feel her pulse, "I'm fine. I'm not hurt. He didn't hurt me."

Some of the tension eased from Kakashi at the proof to her words in the steadiness of her pulse, at the reasurance of her, whole and safe and alive before him, and across from them Itachi eased too.

"Well?" Jiraiya asked impatiently, apparently fed-up with their drama. "Did Danzo use the damn eye on her or not?"

"He did not," Itachi lied smoothly with not a single visible tell that Sansa could pick up. "Not unless you count Izanagi," he then corrected himself. "That is the name of Sharingan technique he used when she delivered what should have been a fatal blow to him."

If Sansa hadn't already been impressed with the boy, she was now. Because if there had been any tells to his lie, Itachi had just neatly covered himself.

"Good," Jiraiya said gruffly, "now we can get the rest of this cluster-fuck sorted."

Sansa thinned her lips. "Jiraiya-san," she said tightly, "I may currently look older, in order to enter this bar, and I am considered a genius, but I am still seven years old. I ask that you mind your language."

Jiraiya blinked. "You're– right," he said, and he actually looked surprised. "Right, you... you would be. Seven."

While Jiraiya appeared lost over her age, Itachi rose gracefully to his feet, his hand slipping up the sleeve of the kimono of his henged disguise, likely to a pouch hidden there. Kakashi tensed again, Sansa could feel his agitation churning through his chakra, but Itachi simply withdrew from his sleeve a blank sheet of chakra-conducting paper, the type that shinobi used to make storage scrolls and exploding tags, which he carefully placed on the table between him and Sansa– and, by extension, Kakashi and Tenzo– and slid it across halfway. 

Obligingly, and ignoring the line of tension that was Kakashi at her back, Sansa leaned forwards to press a small palm against the sheet. The currents of chakra swirled under her palm at her direction, blazing a storage seal into the paper that lit up a brilliant, eye-searing blue as she lifted her palm away.

Itachi was smiling slightly as he pulled the paper back while Jiraiya just stared, wide-eyed in shock. "How did you do that?" he breathed. "That technique– that's Uzushio-style sealing!"

"And I," Sansa said, with sharp, sharp smile, "am an Uzumaki."

"You don't understand," Jiraiya said, leaning forwards over the table urgently, "that is a lost technique! It was lost when Uzushio was destroyed!"

"When Danzo introduced me to seals, this is what came naturally to me," Sansa lied, easy as breathing. And if Kakashi, whose hand was still on her neck, felt her pulse jump with the lie he didn't say a word.

"Thank you, Uzumaki-san," Itachi interrupted serenely, before Jiraiya could continue to carry on. He had very carefully sealed Shisui's eye in the storage seal Sansa had created for him then tucked it away, and was now obviously preparing to leave.

"Please, considering that at this point you've been inside my mind and I know your deepest, darkest secret, I think you can call me Fuyuko," Sansa said with a lightness she didn't truly feel but with a kindness she did and Itachi actually smiled slightly. It made his shoulders look less weighed down, less like he carried on them the weight of all of Konoha. She wondered if he even realised that his embodied representation in his mind wept tears of blood.

Konoha had ruined this child.

"Then I will, Fuyuko-san," Itachi said, soft and almost-pleased sounding. "And please, call me Itachi."

"Safe travels, Itachi-san," Sansa smiled gently at the boy, who stepped out of the booth to leave. Kakashi let go of her suddenly, moving side-ways to block Itachi's path when he went to move past them. Itachi froze when Kakashi reached for him, but Kakashi just grasped the nape of his neck, not unlike how he had been holding Sansa, and squeezed lightly. Itachi went limp in his hold, looking up at Kakashi with wide eyes. 

"Safe travels, kohai," he murmured and Itachi's eyes turned wet. Tenzo moved too then, shifting around Sansa to join Kakashi in standing before Itachi and Sansa watched in amazement as a purple iris* bloomed suddenly from his palm, the beautiful petals of the blossomg flower delicately unfurling. Once it was in full bloom, Tenzo gently tucked it behind Itachi's ear and Itachi reached up with a trembling hand to touch it, a single tear trailing down his cheek.

He was so young, Sansa thought mournfully. Too young, for such a horrific burden. Her heart ached for him as he cast a last, longing look at Kakashi and Tenzo before fleeing the bar. Tenzo looked forlorn as he watched Itachi go. And Kakashi... Kakashi looked darkly furious.

"If Konoha had wanted the Uchiha gone," he said coldly, rounding on Jiraiya, a terrifying look on his face that Sansa never wanted directed at her, "there were more humane ways to get it done then asking a child to massacre his kin."

Jiraiya's shoulders slumped and he didn't look like he was able to meet Kakashi's eyes. "It wouldn't have been my call," he said quietly.

"He was one of mine!" Kakashi hissed, leaning forwards. "He was one of my team! I'm supposed to watch his back and now he's alone!"

"I know!" Jiraiya hissed back. "But there's nothing we can do about it now, so let's focus on what we can do!"

Kakashi let out a strangled sounding snarl before he sat down again. Sansa debated for a moment then decided to sacrifice her pride for the greater good and crawled onto his lap, curling up there even as Tenzo carefully leaned into Kakashi, radiating a line of warmth and support up his side that Sansa could feel. Kakashi froze for a moment then slumped in place, letting his chin rest over her head. It should have felt utterly demeaning, and yet it wasn't. Surrounded by Kakashi's warmth and scent, she felt secure, safe, and that was no small thing in any world. 

"There's not really much to plan," Jiraiya said, after looking like he wanted to comment on how 'adorable' they were then deciding that he liked his throat intact too much to do so. "Sensei broke his promise. I agreed not to take guardianship of the twins under the condition Danzo didn't get it either."

Sansa very carefully didn't let her emotions show as Jiraiya explicity admitted to agreeing not to take guardianship over her and Naruto. She must not have succeeded entirely, because under the table Tenzo's hand reached for hers and squeezed it gently. 

She just didn't understand. Even as Queen of the North, with all the duties that had entailed, Sansa had still fostered Brienne's children, Jainne and Galladon Lannister, and later she had fostered 'little' Sam's son Herndon Tarly, and she had found the time in her life to teach them and the room in her heart to love them all dearly, even though they'd not been the children of her womb. She just could not imagine walking away from two young babes who needed her, who relied on her, whose parents had chosen her to take care of them, in the event that something happened to them. She just truly could not imagine it.

And yet, Jiraiya had. And for that, she would not forgive him.

Even as her thoughts spun and stalled, trying and failing to make sense of the abandonment, Sansa made sure not to miss any of the conversation happening between Kakashi and Jiraiya as they planned the return to Konoha. There was a part of her that wished otherwise, that Kakashi would just break in and find Naruto and that they would leave, that Konoha would never darken their lives again. But it wasn't to be so (not yet), and Sansa listened to the two men plot out the possible responses of the Sandaime to Kakashi's actions and how they'd respond in turn. 

When it was finally time to return to the inn, Sansa felt ill at ease and found herself reluctant to be apart from Kakashi and Tenzo. It was nights like these when she would have curled up with Shin and she hated how dependant she'd grown on other people. When she was Queen, she had rarely needed anyone else. Oh, for matters of court she'd had her advisors, her fellow lords and ladies with their petitions and disputes, and Arya, her Mistress of Whispers and blade in the dark, and her children– she'd never not needed her children– but she'd never felt as if she had to curl up in someone's arms in order to breathe properly. Not since the days when she was a child who'd escaped from the Red Keep and had yet to realise she'd just run into the arms of another monster had she felt the yearning for such security. 

And after that, she'd known better then to ever seek comfort in the arms of another. Petyr had certainly taught her that lesson.

As they made their way to the rooms of their inn, however, she didn't even need to ask– Kakashi didn't hesitate a moment to steer both her and Tenzo into the one room, throwing the key to the other room they'd rented at Jiraiya and slamming the door in the face of any potential protests, locking it for good measure. It wouldn't do anything to keep a shinobi out, but it sent a rather pointed message and Sansa felt her chest warm.

As Kakashi started setting up traps, Tenzo showed Sansa how to dispel the henge, demonstrating with his own chakra for her to copy, then allowed her to use the bathroom connected to the bedroom of the inn first. Tenzo had apparently sent out a clone earlier to pick up clothes and toiletries for them and Sansa was relieved for the chance to have a hot shower, washing days of travel and fighting out of her hair then changing into a simple linen shift and loose pants that reached her mid-shin. Simple heating seals on both her palms followed by running her hands through her hair quickly dried the wet, tangled strands, making it easy to run a brush through her hair then braid it before bed.

Sansa felt awkward for a moment, staring at the lone bed she was supposed to share with two grown men– well, mostly grown, Tenzo was still a teenager– but she was tired and she wanted to lay down on a mattress after a night of sleeping on the ground, so she simply curled up in the middle, and when Kakashi and Tenzo later joined her, creating a protective cradle of limbs around her, Sansa didn't feel awkward– she felt safe.

~

If their circumstances were different, Itachi thought he could have been friends with someone like Uzumaki Fuyuko. She might wear a skin of calm grace, but he had been offered a rare glimpse past those masks, to her bones made out of seas and storms and chaos.

Her mindscape was something otherworldly, just like she was. When using the Mangekyou Sharingan to look into her gaze, the endless depths of her eyes nearly drowned Itachi in the icy, unfathomable currents of the ocean. And surrounded by the pale-trunked trees with their bleeding leaves and weeping crimson faces, he swore he could feel the force of the gods staring down at him, could feel the weight of their judgment like an executioner's blade over the back of his neck.

No wonder she held such strength in her slight form, if that was what she lived with, what she contained within her. Itachi wondered if Fuyuko even realised the force of her personality. If she even realised how she dragged people in, how Kakashi and Tenzo revolved in her orbit, how Itachi himself found himself drawn to her. She was starlight, at once horrifying and brilliant, and like any Uchiha, Itachi just wanted to burn.

Uchihas fell so quickly to obsession.

Just for the priceless gift she had bestowed upon him unknowingly, he owed her a debt he could never repay; a gift he thought he lost to him forever when he had accepted the mission to exterminate his clan– his old team.

He could still feel Kakashi's phantom grip on the back of his neck, gentle, firm, and warm; and Tenzo's gift of a purple iris acknowledging his 'loyalty', now tucked away close to his heart... Itachi couldn't even help his tears, and in that moment, back in the bar, all he'd wanted was to throw himself at the mercy of the Hokage and beg for him to reveal the truth so that Itachi could go home. If he'd stayed even a second longer, he didn't think he'd have been able to stop himself. He hadn't stopped running for hours, he was so convinced he would turn back the moment he did.

He was exhausted by the time he eventually arrived in Amegakure. The village was nothing like Konoha and maybe it was the small taste of home that made it so much more unbearable this time as he stepped through the heavy set of gates that opened with the ring on his finger. He passed Konan as he made his way through the castle of steel and she nodded somewhat absently to him and he nodded back politely before making his way down various flights of stairs, to a section of the fortress he rarely entered.

The laboratories, after all, were where Orochimaru had made his home.

Not for much longer though, Itachi presumed. Orochimaru was already getting restless. He had joined the Akatsuki out of curiosity and for the sake of resources more than actual interest in world peace, he thought, and sooner or later he would test himself against Itachi in an attempt to gain himself a pair of Sharingan eyes and would end up losing his position in Akatsuki.

Or maybe not. Because Itachi had a new offer for him.

Itachi had never truly disliked Orochimaru. It was indisputable fact that the man went too far in his experiments. But as a fellow child prodigy who had been pushed and pushed by his superiors until he'd nearly broken (with the rest of the world so easily believing he had broken), he did understand how Orochimaru ended up the way he had. That didn't excuse the suffering, of course, and it in no way condoned Orochimaru's actions– Tenzo was his team-mate– but that didn't mean he couldn't sympathise with the man.

"Ah, Itachi-kun," Orochimaru greeted him, tone as sibilant as one of his snake summons as he straightened up from the sleek silver surface of his lab bench he'd been leaning over, peering at a yellowing scroll. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"I would like you to perform a Sharingan transplant," Itachi said, not bothering to dress up his words mostly just to see Orochimaru try and fail to hide his shock. "I'll let you keep the extra eye as payment."

It made sense in the end, after all. Orochimaru wouldn't be able to turn the eye off, so two transplanted eyes would be useless to him. And if he already had one eye, he was less likely to turn his attention towards Sasuke in the future– while Itachi was confident in his own ability to fend off the Snake Sannin, he was less confident in his little brother's chances, nor did he want Orochimaru to kidnap any of the defenceless Uchiha women and children he'd been allowed to leave alive in order to gain their DNA. 

"What is the trick?" Orochimaru demanded– which, fair.

"There is none," Itachi said honestly. "After Danzo's recent death, I was able to recover the eye of a cousin that he stole. Continued use of the Mangekyou Sharingan causes blindness. Transplanting the eye of a close relative is a way of using the Mangekyou Sharingan while preventing this blindness. Seeing as I don't wish to steal my brother's eyes, this is my solution."

And, for Fuyuko, transplanting Shisui's eye would give him use of Kotoamatsukami– which hopefully, would provide a way to break it. After all, as Fuyuko had pointed out, with the activation of the Mangekyou Sharingain came an instinctive awareness of its boundaries and weaknesses and how it worked. Though how she knew that, he wasn't sure. He presumed it had to do with either the Kyuubi– and he wondered if Fuyuko realised just how much of her relationship with the Nine Tails she'd given away by revealing the Kyuubi's preference for they/them pronouns– or through her being favoured by the gods. Or possibly both.

"You know, this is what I like about you, Itachi-kun," Orochimaru said thoughtfully, golden eyes gleaming with avarice, "you don't let morals and centuries-old tradition get in the way of the practicality of what needs to be done."

Itachi nodded placidly, pulling the seal from his pouch. He was surprised to see Orochimaru's eyes light up at the sight of it. "Well!" the Sannin said. "I haven't seen one of those around for years! Tsunade used to bring them back for us when she visited Uzushio– wherever did you find it?"

"It was a gift," Itachi said, feeling a bit awkward now. He hadn't realised it was quite so unusual– he assumed Jiraiya had just been making a fuss of Fuyuko's skills because he was a seal master. Orochimaru making a fuss too implied that Fuyuko's sealing talent was actually more valuable then he realised.

Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed with unsettling interest.

"Hmm," he said. "How interesting."

Itachi's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening on the scroll and Orochimaru's smile quirked in unspoken understanding before Itachi handed over the storage seal, almost feeling violated with the way Orochimaru stroked it, and moved lightly up so sit up on the bench. "I will be staying awake during the procedure." He said stiffly.

"Yes, yes, of course," Orochimaru said idly, more occupied with the seal then him. "I'll just turn off the sensory nerve receptors around your eyes, it'll feel odd but there'll be no pain. Ah– this is clever! I haven't seen one like this before, it's genius! This really does remind me of Uzushio-style sealing, nothing like they teach in Konoha. And oh, isn't this just lovely!" Now he was cooing at Shisui's Sharingan, which was even worse than when he was having raptures over Fuyuko's seal. Itachi just desperately wanted it all to be over.

It took hours, in the end. Hours of staying stone-still, letting the scientist cut into his skull, watching the scientist cut into Shisui's eyeball because it wasn't quite the right shape for his orbital socket, reconnecting all sorts of nerve endings and arteries and veins and chakra pathways so that the eyeball would actually start growing again with the rest of his body**, until finally Orochimaru was removing the tape holding his eyelids open, the smuggest smirk on his face.

"Perfect!" He practically purred. "Blink now, darling, and turn off that gorgeous work of genetic perfection."

Still feeling rather violated, Itachi blinked and focused on turning off the Sharingan, as he normally would. There was a slight delay, but when he opened his eyes, his vision was normal again.

"Perfect," Orochimaru repeated, nothing short of utter delight on his face. He then made Itachi repeat the exercise several times, turning the Sharingan on and off until there was no delay, then turning the Sharingan Mangekyou on and off.

Itachi could feel the new awareness that had dawned within him the first time he activated Shisui's Mangekyou Sharingan. He knew how to use it now, he knew its strengths, and he knew its weaknesses– it was unbreakable, that was true, but it was also breakable and he knew how. A true paradox. But he knew how to help Fuyuko now, and he would.

Orochimaru interrupted his satisfied contemplations then. "You've given me a gift, Itachi-kun," he said, having lost all of his playfulness from before, replacing it with an odd contemplativeness as he surveyed Itachi with a thoughtful stare. "I don't know why. I don't really like not knowing why either. You could have found other medic-nins who would have done the job. But you chose me, knowing full well what the payment would be. I don't do debts, Itachi-kun. But I will remember this."

"I'm keeping the seal," was all Itachi said, sweeping it up before Orochimaru could and bowing at the Snake Sannin before leaving the laboratory.

~

*Purple iris (shobu) Japanese flower meaning = loyalty

**considering all the eye-transplants that happen in Naruto, I assume there is some chakra fuckery that allows eyeballs to keep growing once they've been transplanted into kids

~

A/N: At this point, Orochimaru hasn't committed a lot of the crimes he has further along. I'm not defending the crimes he has committed, and I won't, but Itachi has a more pragmatic mind-set. Also, he wants to protect Sasuke, and potentially the defenceless Uchiha women and pre-Academy age children too but Sasuke is his priority, and he sees this as a way to protect him and help Sansa. 

Also, my flag test is done and final assignments have been submitted! All that's left is my exams and my second year of uni will be over! xx

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Sansa returned to Konoha on the late afternoon of the third day after Danzo’s death, accompanied by Kakashi, Tenzo and Jiraiya.

The moment they reached the gates of Konoha, they were surrounded by a squad of ANBU that seemed to have been waiting and ‘escorted’ rather pointedly to the Hokage Tower. There were stares and whispers as they passed through the streets of Konoha, the attention something Sansa hadn’t missed while being little more than a prisoner in the underground Root base.

The Hokage Tower hadn’t changed since the last time she’d been there, over three years ago. The Hokage hadn’t changed either; he still outwardly appeared as the benevolent grandfatherly type, yet this was the same man who had tried to force a four-year-old to train to be a soldier, a murderer for hire, a human weapon, and then traded her to Danzo when she refused, where she was tortured until she complied. He was just as much a monster as Danzo and one day she hoped he met the same end as Danzo did– his head torn from his shoulders as his life’s work was torn down around him.

“I do hope,” the Hokage said, once they were all standing in front of his desk, “that you all have a good explanation ready.”

“Funny,” Jiraiya said flatly, “I was about to say the same damn thing.”

The Hokage sighed. “Fuyuko-chan left me no choice, Jiraiya,” he said heavily, speaking as if Sansa wasn’t standing before him, like she was a non-entity to the conversation. “She was already using the Kyuubi’s chakra, we needed to make sure she could control it.”

Sansa saw red and very carefully did not react. It took every bit of practice she had from the Red Keep, listening to Joffrey and Cersei mock her family to keep her chakra tightly under control when she wanted nothing more than to let it rip the room to shreds.

“You should have called me back, I could have tightened the seal,” Jiraiya argued.

“And then?” the Hokage demanded, as if Jiraiya was the unreasonable one. “She was refusing to ever become a shinobi. She’s a jinchūriki, Jiraiya!”

“And then you should waited until she was older, and asked again when you could have explained to her why she needed to learn in a way she understood,” Jiraiya said furiously. “Konoha was founded so that it wasn’t necessary to create child soldiers! You’re spitting on the memory of your sensei and his brother!”

“Don’t you dare say that!” the Hokage shouted, clearly losing his temper.

“I dare, because it’s the fucking truth!” Jiraiya shouted back. “You betrayed me, you betrayed Minato’s memory, you betrayed the memory of your sensei and you betrayed the ideals that the First Hokage built this village upon!”

“Oh? And what about how you betrayed me?” Demanded the Hokage. “You left, Jiraiya! You all left; you, Tsunade, Orochimaru– you all left and I’m old! I’m supposed to be retired, but you’re all gone and I have nobody to leave this hat to because you’re all too busy thinking of yourselves and your own pain then this village!”

Jiraiya fell silent, apparently unprepared to deal with the Hokage’s outburst, and the Hokage glowered down at them all, the weight of his chakra heavy and smothering in the room. It made Sansa want to buckle down under its pressure, but she locked her knees and refused to let it make her bend.

“Now,” the Hokage said, and she could hear the threat in his voice now, any trace of benevolence erased from his tone, “I understand there were serious mitigating circumstances that preceded the… incident three days ago. So, this is how we’re going to let it play out. Jiraiya, you received intel that there was a serious threat to Fuyuko’s safety. You sent a message to Kakashi to remove Fuyuko from Root and bring her to you. I was not informed as he was concerned about a leak in my office– in the aftermath, we learned that the leak was Danzo himself. Obviously, the fight happened when Kakashi attempted to remove Fuyuko and Danzo resisted. Kakashi and Tenzo were following orders the entire time. You returned now with Jiraiya to debrief. Is that understood?”

Sansa couldn’t help her disgust at the Hokage’s clear intention to try and cover Danzo’s crimes up, to the best of his ability, to conceal what he could of his old friend’s crimes. This was what it meant to be a ruler, after all; the truth was what they made it, nothing more, nothing less. It was never anything she liked to see. She wondered how he was planning to cover up the bloodline theft and stolen clan children. She hoped he was failing. She hoped he was getting raked over red-hot coals, that the Council, with all its clan heads, was akin to the courts of her previous life; a pit of rats and vipers, apex predators and opportunistic scavengers both, greedy and hungering for any hint of weakness.

She hoped they’d eat him alive.

As if he was reading her thoughts, the Hokage finally turned to face her, his eyes boring into her own. “As for you, Fuyuko-chan,” he said, and Sansa curled back her lips, her bared teeth more akin to a wolf’s snarl then a lady’s smile.

“As Danzo’s organisation was not recognised as part of Konoha’s shinobi forces, I was never officially a shinobi of Konoha,” she said, more for the purpose of angering him, then any true belief that her wishes would be permissible– she had no intention of making it easy for the Hokage, though; she wasn’t about to just roll over for him and show her tender belly. “I have no intention of ever being part of Konoha’s shinobi forces,” she said. “I’m going to be a seamstress.”

The Hokage looked downright murderous. “You are a Jinchūriki,” he snapped. “You do not have a choice, you must be a shinobi!”

“If she wants to be a seamstress,” Kakashi said, low and burning and furious, a protective force hovering at her back, “she can be a fucking seamstress. Or I am taking them and you will never see any of us again.”

“That is treason,” the Hokage said coldly.

“That,” Kakashi snarled, “is my line in the fucking sand.”

The Hokage honestly looked like he wanted to murder them all.

“Fine,” he said with a heavy, weary tone. “Fine. I am not unreasonable. We can reach a compromise. From the reports Danzo sent, you are easily at chūnin level, Fuyuko-chan. You will officially become a chūnin and won’t be expected to take any missions but in-village D or C rank-missions. You will be expected to study to become a tokubetsu jōnin on the basis of your sealing expertise– your skill with Uzushio-style sealing during the fight with Root did not go unnoticed. Other than in the case of an invasion or war, you will be considered a non-combative type. If you comply with this, you may take up a seamstress apprenticeship.”

Sansa hesitated, torn. It was a very good deal and certainly the best she was going to get. It wouldn’t be what she’d have chosen for herself, if she had the choice, but the fact was, she didn’t truly have a choice– and it was more than she’d ever expected, which made her suspicious. There had to be a catch; she just couldn’t find it, and that made her uneasy about accepting.

“I will agree,” she said, finally, "on one condition."

“Yes?” the Hokage asked, and Sansa lifted her chin high.

“I want the Uzumaki to be recognised as an official Clan in Konoha,” she demanded, “and for Naruto and I to be recognised as members of the Uzumaki Clan.”

Sansa had read the village’s founding charter and all its amendments– Danzo had an original copy of the document in his office. She knew the requirements and qualifications for being a Clan, which considering the village was barely a century old, wasn’t that complicated compared to eight thousand years worth of legal tradition in the North alone.

The Uzumaki were recognised as a pre-existing Clan, even if Uzushio was destroyed, their parents had married in Konoha, had both been employed in Konoha, had held ranked positions in Konoha, Sansa and Naruto had been born in Konoha, Naruto was in training to be a shinobi in Konoha and the Hokage had just declared that Sansa was an active shinobi of Konoha which meant she could sit in as acting Head until her older sibling was either of-age or an active shinobi. They filled the requirements.

“You will have to start earning money to pay for taxes,” the Hokage warned.

“That’s fine,” Sansa smiled at him, teeth sharp, eyes glittering. “I’ve heard I’ll be expected to take in-village D or C rank-missions now.”

“I will agree to this,” the Hokage said slowly, “if you agree to competing in the upcoming Chūnin Exams for your promotion. Until then, you will only be recognised as a genin.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes but nodded– genin, chūnin, the titles meant nothing to her, either way. The Hokage nodded back.

“The Council meets every third Sunday of the month at this Tower,” he informed her. “If there is an emergency meeting, you will be summoned. Now go, all of you. And somebody send me a message when Naruto has been located, which I am certain he shortly will be.”

“One last thing,” Sansa released Uchiha Kagami’s eye from the storage seal on her arm, mentally apologising to Mito for not being able to bury it herself. She hoped that Mito would be able to gain closure by having the Hokage be forced to face the bitter truth. “Uchiha Kagami’s sharingan. Removed from Danzo, who removed it from Kagami after he killed him. I believe he was a teammate of yours,” she said, presenting it with a flourish. The Hokage went white and when he didn’t move to accept it, Sansa placed the Sharingan on the desk and turned to leave, not waiting to be dismissed.

As she left the Hokage’s office, Sansa could taste the thrill of victory on her tongue. Clearly, the old man had no idea as to what he’d just agreed to. It was just as she’d told Itachi, barely a day ago. There was legislation and amendments included in the village charter that allowed Clans to formally secede from the village. Now that the Uzumaki were officially recognised as a Clan, and her and Naruto as Clan members, once Kurama had been released from the seals Konoha technically could not stop them from leaving.

“You’re looking very pleased with yourself for someone who doesn’t want to become a shinobi,” Jiraiya said suspiciously.

“Reclaiming the heritage stolen from me by a man cowardly enough to hide behind the laws he himself made puts me in a good mood,” Sansa said sweetly. Sudden laughter had her turning slightly to spot to people approaching them. She didn’t recognise the one who laughed, but the other one… “Tora,” she murmured.

“Raidou always said you had a tongue sharper then a kunai,” the first man said, a senbon dangling from his mouth, clicking against his teeth as he spoke, “turns out he was underselling it.”

“Genma,” Tora– Raidou hissed. Genma just grinned.

“I take it as a compliment,” Sansa assured Raidou. She considered apologising for paralysing him, then decided it would probably be more humiliating for him then anything. “Thank you,” she said instead. “You tried. Not many did.”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t enough,” Raidou said quietly and Sansa just shook her head.

“You tried,” she repeated. “Remember that. Because I do.” She then turned back to Kakashi. “Let’s go find Naruto.” She said.

Sansa could feel the hurricane-storm-chaos of her brother’s chakra, so bright-bright-bright, and it pulled at her until she was practically flying through the streets, dodging civilians and shinobi alike, following its call. It took her straight to Baabaa’s house, an old crone who lived in the Yūkaku, and the moment she spotted him, she was tumbling into his arms and Naruto was hugging her and she was hugging him and they were both crying and crying and crying.

There had been a part of Sansa that was terrified he wouldn’t recognise her. That it would be like with Arya and Bran and Jon, who had been nearly strangers to her after so much time away from each other, after everything they’d gone through and how they’d grown in their time apart. She had grown to love them again, but it hadn’t stopped that awkwardness, that unfamiliarity as they looked into each other’s faces and saw a stranger staring back at them.

There was no awkwardness here. Naruto fit into her arms the same way he always had, his chakra melding perfectly with her own; the wildness of hurricanes meeting the vast, sweeping oceans as Sansa buried her face in his golden hair and wept. Naruto was crying too; big, loud, wet sobs that turned his face into a red, blotchy mess. He was too thin under her greedy, grasping hands, too many sharp angles jabbing into her as he gripped too tightly, but he was her baby brother, her little prince, her sunshine.

When a dying Kushina had cradled her in her arms and bid Sansa to protect Naruto, to love him, Sansa had vowed to do so out of duty. Then she had been placed in the same cradle as Naruto, had met the squalling, strawberry-pink newborn who was her brother, her twin, her second-half in this new world, and as the weeks flowed by that duty had fallen away in the face of the sheer devotion to the small being that grew up beside her, with his sunshine smiles and bright blue eyes, replaced instead by a genuine love and adoration and a fierce willingness to do whatever it took to see him safe and well and happy.

Her brother. Her Naruto.

Sansa buried her face in the curve of his neck and swore she would never let herself be torn from his again.

“I shouldn’t cry,” Naruto blubbered, after they’d long cried themselves into exhaustion, both of them curled up together on the patches of dried up grass in front of Baabaa’s house. “Only babies cry. I’mma ninja now.”

“Oh Naruto,” Sansa said, so heartachingly fond, “storms never hide their tears. And you, my love, are a storm. You leave your mark behind on every life you touch.”

“Is thatta good thing?” Naruto asked, looking up at her with wet, nervous blue eyes.

“It’s the very best thing of all,” Sansa assured him, kissing his cheek and tasting salt, like the spray of the ocean.

They didn’t get up and return to the apartment until Baabaa came out to shoo them away, prodding them with her walking stick. Even then they didn’t let go of each other, walking hand in hand, chakra still melded as they returned to the apartment that Naruto and Sansa had once shared, and then Naruto had lived in alone for three years, as a party of four. It wasn’t a large apartment, but Sansa and Naruto were small children and Tenzo and Kakashi weren’t exactly very big either.

“I kept your sleeping mat!” Naruto said excitedly, scampering over to pull it out, standing proudly over it and beaming. “And your pillow! I make sure to buy those dried-up nice smelling flowers to put on it so it wouldn’t smell all nasty when you come back!”

“Naruto,” Sansa could feel her already sore and stinging eyes filling with tears again at his thoughtfulness, at his faith in her return. “Thank you,” she choked.

Naruto sniffled. “I’m so scared, Ko-ane,” he whispered, hanging his head low as he clutched her pillow with trembling hands. “I’m so scared this is a dream and if I close my eyes you’re gonna disappear again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Sansa vowed, sweeping him into her arms. “I love you, Naruto, I love you so much. I love you like the wolf loves the moon, like the wind loves the sea, like the moon loves the tides. I love you, my brother, my sunshine, my Naruto.”

“But what if somebody comes and takes you away, like they took Ka-ane and you and mama and papa?” Naruto whispered. “I’m not a very good ninja yet. I can’t protect you.”

Sansa looked helplessly up at Kakashi and Tenzo. “Do you mind– just for tonight?” she pleaded. “Can you stay?”

“We’ll stay,” Tenzo said, when Kakashi didn’t say anything. Kakashi seemed frozen, staring at Naruto like he’d seen a ghost. Naruto did look like a miniature version of Minato. Sansa remembered how it felt like she was being stabbed in the heart every time she saw Jon out of the corner of her eye, he just looked so much like her father.

(It had been easier to love Jon from far away)

Sansa spent the time before nightfall catching up with Naruto. He was so excited to tell her about the Academy and show her all the sewing he’d done. Sansa was genuinely so proud of the wolf’s teeth hemming he’d done on the collar and hems of the admittedly incredibly ugly orange jumpsuits he’d bought in her absence, and he’d also done a remarkable job of embroidering on the Uzushio spiral. She was also so proud of his efforts as he showed her his adorably clumsy katas and his shaky but determined inked characters for his Academy lessons.

“I’ve learned lotsa cool stuff,” he told her, beaming brightly, like the brilliant ray of sunshine he was. “I’ve gotta learn, because I’m gonna be Hokage.”

Sansa… froze.

“You want to be Hokage?” she repeated slowly.

Naruto nodded, bouncing up and down.

“Yeah, like Old Man Hokage,” he said, pulling a quick face as he spoke of the Sandaime, which was actually reassuring in the face of her sudden shock. “Which Tama-nee says means I gotta know lots of stuff and make hard choices and write lots and talk ta important people, like Waka-gashira, ‘cept less scary then him and more snooty,” he pulled a face. “But if I wanna change the village, I gotta be a real important person an’ the Hokage is the most important person in the village,” her little brother explained.

“At least you seem to have a grounded understanding of what being Hokage means,” Sansa murmured. Hokage… Sansa did not doubt in Naruto’s ability to become Hokage, not for a moment. He was born to rule, just as she was. But Konoha did not deserve him, and she would not let them take and take until there was nothing left of her bright brother– there was only one village, one kingdom, that was worthy of her brother. She was Sansa Stark, she knew how to rebuild a home from ruins, and the ruins of Uzushiogakure called. Naruto would be never be Hokage, she vowed this on the blood of their ancestors. Konoha would not have him. But Uzukage…

Uzukage she could do.

Focusing back on the room, Sansa could practically see the ghosts haunting Kakashi, could see their ice-cold fingers wrapping around his throat, stealing the life from his breath, and she waited until Tenzo distracted Naruto with preparing dinner before approaching him carefully.

“It’s okay, you know,” she murmured, reaching for his hand with her two smaller ones. His fingers felt ice-cold. “It’s okay if you need to go. I understand.”

Kakashi crouched down, reaching out with his other hand so it was wrapped around the nape of her neck, a steady, grounding pressure that made her feel boneless, like she could just sink into a puddle of contentedness. He was still frozen-stiff, still smelled like grief/despair/fear, but there was also something warm and longing in his scent, something that made her curl into his hold. “Those who break the rules are trash, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash,” he murmured. “I won’t abandon you.”

And Sansa trusted him.

~

Sansa waited until everyone was asleep, Naruto curled in her arms and Kakashi and Tenzo bracketing them on either side, before she let her mind drift, seeking out Lady’s mind.

SANSA!

Lady’s joy/love/excitement almost knocked her right back out of the spirit wolf’s mind and Sansa laughed with delight, curling around Lady’s soul, infusing her with her own feelings oflove/love/freedom/love/joy.

Tsukiko loped over to them with the lazy, effortless grace of an apex predator, leaning down to nuzzle at Sansa/Lady with pride gleaming in her large golden eyes.

“Well done, Sansa,” she said, her voice filled with satisfaction. “You have avenged Sakumo and led us in battle. Your trials to being recognised as an Alpha in your own right are nearly over.”

“…there are trials to be recognised as an Alpha?” Sansa/Lady asked, startled. “And I’m doing them?”

Tsukiko laughed.

“Yes, there are, and yes, you are,” she said, amused. “Do you not remember Sayomi calling you a little baby Alpha?”

“I did, but… I thought that was just because I refused to submit to her,” Sansa/Lady said. Tsukiko looked exasperated, as only a giant wolf can.

“And what does one Alpha facing another Alpha do but challenge them?” she asked.

“Oh,” Sansa/Lady realised.

“Yes,” Tsukiko sighed pointedly. “Oh.”

“But what does this mean?” Sansa/Lady asked, frowning.

“It means you’ve defended the Pack through avenging Sakumo, you’ve led us in battle, and now you have to lead us in hunt,” Tsukiko explained. “It is all part of you proving your worth, your ability to lead when challenged.”

“That sounds familiar,” Sansa/Lady said dryly. “As Queen, I had to prove my worth every day of my life, for daring to hold power while being a woman. So how do I prove to the pack that I am worthy?”

“You will have to assert your will over the pack,” Tsukiko explained, “you have to track the prey, help bring down the prey, then assert yourself again to eat first and eat the best parts of the kill.” Here, Tsukiko grinned, wild and wolfish. “And you will have to eat it raw, as a wolf does.”

Sansa/Lady looked up at Tsukiko horrified. “I’ll be sharing a body with Kita*, right?” she asked anxiously.

“I am unsure,” Tsukiko said thoughtfully. “We’ve never had summoner so intertwined with the soul of a wolf before. Sayomi will have to make that decision when the night of the Hunt arrives.”

“And when is the night of the hunt?” Sansa/Lady asked.

Tsukiko’s golden eyes gleamed.

“Why,” she said, “when else would it be, but under the blessing of the full moon?”

*Just a reminder, Kita is Lady’s Naruto-verse name :)

A/N: Reunited at last! xx

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT:

When Sansa woke the next morning, for a brief and shining moment everything in her life was perfect. Naruto was curled up in her arms, smelling of warmth and fox-musk and storms, and behind her was Kakashi’s firm chest, a lazy arm draped protectively across them both like a heavy blanket. Even Tenzo was stretched out on Naruto’s other side, bracketing them in. It was like when she was with Lady and her litter-mates and they all piled together. It was Pack and family and safety.

Kakashi must have noticed she was awake, though, because far too quickly he drew away from her, his arm lifting up as he stood. Sansa wanted to whine, to plead for him to come back, but the unease/fear/grief that tangled in his scent warned her not to push. Kakashi was dealing with too much, she couldn’t force this on him. He would come to them, when he was ready.

Naruto woke with Kakashi’s movements, jerking upright with the sort of instincts that made her heart sink, because she wished, oh she wished, he’d never had to learn such reflexes in his short life. The moment he saw her, though, he burst into tears and pounced straight onto her, knocking her back to the ground and pinning her there as he sobbed into the curve of her neck.

Sansa just held him, letting him weep. She knew all too well the desperation he felt, how his whole world had shifted, how it didn’t feel real, how he couldn’t believe he really had this, that he had her back.

She had been alone for so long, after her father had been murdered, and then in such a short span of time she’d suddenly regained three of her siblings and it just felt like a dream, like it couldn’t be real. Like at any moment, she’d wake up and be alone again.

“I’m here,” she whispered to Naruto in the Old Tongue, a language that was just theirs, the very first language she’d taught him in the cradle, when his tears showed no sign of slowing, “I’m here, my dearest one, my wolf-cub, my little prince.”

“My sister, my Sansa,” Naruto whispered back, and Sansa felt something within her lighten at her name, her true name, spoken to her in the truest language of her people.

Naruto finally lifted his head and wiped his wet face with the back of his hand, sniffling slightly. Sansa’s neck felt sticky and damp, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was that she felt better than she had for a long, long time, here surrounded by her family.

But before she could relax and be content in the presence of her Pack, there was one thing she needed to do.

Before leaving the apartment, she and Naruto dressed in their nicest clothes– or, in Sansa’s case, dressed in Naruto’s second nicest clothes as she didn’t have any of her own anymore that fit, even though Naruto had kept all her old things– and after saying goodbye to Kakashi and Tenzo they went down to the market to buy some inarizushi.

Sansa found herself so proud of her brother and all he had learned in the years she had been gone. As they walked, he showed her the safe places to hide, pointed out which restaurants gave out free food after closing, told her about who it was safe to run errands for to get some quick money on the side, which market stalls would sell to him so long as he arrived early or late enough that nobody else was around, which alleys were safe enough to enter, which ones had to be avoided at all costs, where the yazkuza were likely to be lurking on any given night, which dealers were more short tempered and prone to violence… an entire guide to survival, all in Naruto’s head. He was brilliant, utterly brilliant, and she kept telling him so until he was so red that she just had to shower his blushing cheeks with kisses.

Naruto took her to one of the stalls that would sell to him, so long as nobody else was around, and they lingered until there were no customers about then bought some inarizushi before making their way to the shrine. Sansa couldn’t help feeling the nerves twisting in her stomach as they drew closer. She knew it hadn’t been her decision to abandon the shrine, that it had been out of her hands, but as Cersei had said; gods have no mercy, that was why they were gods. Naruto didn’t hesitate though, happily clapping and bowing as they passed through each torri.

When they reached the entrance of the shrine, Sansa took a deep breath, bowed twice, clapped and then entered. She could instantly feel the weight of the divine pressing on her. It was a similar feeling to what she used to feel in the godswood; the air around her was heavier, too full and pressing down on her. Unlike the godswood, however, the shrine was calmer and warm, smelling of fox-musk and flowers; it was as if a heavy, muffling blanket of serenity had dropped over her. Sansa dropped to her knees at once and as she looked around, she gasped in shocked, breathless delight.

Origami foxes and kitsunes covered every inch of the walls of the shrine and between the foxes were wildflowers, the sort that grew between cracks on paths and amidst the grasses in fields, hardy and unwanted but still beautiful. There were even little statues sitting around, small wooden and stone carvings of foxes and kistunes, all hand-painted. It was beautiful in the sheer amount of love that had been poured into it and Sansa could feel the warmth blossoming in her at the sight of the sheer devotion and worship that surrounded her. This was no longer an abandoned place, left to rot. This was a shrine for the devout, for the overlooked and the unwanted, for those the world had turned away from. It was a place for the forgotten faithful to worship.

“I told Tama-neechan about what we were doing,” Naruto said shyly. “She helped me start spreading the word ‘round ‘bout the shrine. It was mostly us kids at first, but then the pretty neesans at Madam Ai’s started coming here too, then the nice ladies from other houses, then some of the Yaks too. Everyone knows ta be real respec’ful. Waka-gashira promised me he’d make anyone who van-da-lised the shrine eat their own fingers.” Naruto pulled a face. “Which is super gross so I’m glad nobody’s messed it up.”

Sansa really needed to talk about Tama letting Naruto near this Waka-gashira. Then again, it sounded as if she owed Suzuki Tama too much to ever really reprimand the other girl about anything. She had not only helped Naruto survive when Sansa had been stolen away, but she was the one who had pointed Sansa’s saviour in the right direction.

“It’s wonderful, Naruto,” Sansa said, her heart singing. She bowed her head, letting the divinely serene atmosphere wash over her, soothing her troubled spirit. She felt at peace, centred within herself. Her anxiety over the Kotoamatsukami had faded to the back of her mind, her concerns over the Chūnin Exams, over her plotting, over Naruto wanting to be Hokage, over her renewed task of breaking the seal trapping Kurama, all of it washed away.

Instead, she prayed for the souls of the lost people of Uzushio, may they know peace. She prayed for Serena, for Shin, for Kanna, for Kushina, and even Minato, may they rest easy. She prayed for Mito, that one day her vow may be fulfilled. She prayed for Kurama, that one day they and their siblings may once more be free. And she prayed for Naruto, that by her blood and her name, he may one day be Uzukage.

When Sansa opened her eyes and stood up, she felt so light she almost felt as if she could just float away. Naruto was beaming at her, pointing over to the entrance to the honden. “Look!” he said. “Nari-chan’s back!”

Sansa looked over and gasped at the sight of the white-furred fox sitting just inside the honden. It was slightly larger than a normal fox, its fur pure white and wisping about its body in a way that wasn’t quite natural. Sansa recognised it immediately from her dreams, the ones that guided her into activating the seal in her mind that released the chakra imprint of Mito.

“Inari-sama,” she breathed, falling back to her knees.

Naruto skipped forwards before she could stop him, and Sansa watched in muted horror as her little brother stepped over into the honden, the sacred room in the shrine where only priests and kami should tread, then scooped a god up into his arms, holding Inari-sama like he would a pet cat, hugging them to his chest. “Nari-chan, I missed you!” Naruto pouted, nuzzling his cheek against the top of Inari-sama’s head. Sansa wondered, horrified, if this was the moment that her brother was smited by an enraged god.

Inari-sama, however, just laughed. “I missed you too, Naru-chan,” the living-embodiment of a kami said, amused, licking Naruto’s chin. Sansa watched, frozen and afraid and in awe, as Naruto gently placed Inari-sama back on the ground and the fox-god sat, delicately curling their tail over their front paws.

“Nari-chan sometimes eats the inarizushi that people bring, but Nari-chan says it’s okay, 'cause Inari-sama doesn’t mind sharing,” Naruto explained to her, and Sansa somehow managed to smile and nod. Inari-sama bowed their head slightly in her direction.

“You need not fear child,” they said gently, “though I understand why you do. Even the love of the gods is a cruel thing to endure. But I owe you a debt and you have my protection.”

Sansa couldn’t bring herself to speak, her tongue was too thick and heavy in her mouth, so she bowed from her already kneeling position, her forehead brushing against the floor of the shrine.

“Oh child,” Inari-sama murmured, standing and padding forwards on gentle paws. It took Sansa a moment to realise that the god wasn’t talking in the language of this world, but in the Old Tongue of Westeros, and it made her head jerk up, to look into the ancient eyes of the snow-white fox that housed within it an ancient being. “The gods have been cruel to you, and still we ask so much,” the fox-gold murmured. “They sung of you for thousands of years, the first Queen in the United North. Queen Mother of the Seven Kingdoms. Queen of Peace. The Martyr Queen. So many Names, so many songs. You will never be forgotten. Not in any world.”

“What do you want of me?” Sansa asked wretchedly.

“We want you,” Inari-sama said simply. “We want you, just as you are. Everything you are doing, everything you seek to do, it is exactly what we wish done. You are the perfect piece to prevent disaster from unravelling this world.”

Sansa bowed her head, hiding her frustrated tears. Naruto, who by now had figured out there was something very serious happening, scampered over to her side to glare fiercely at Inari-sama.

“Don’t be mean to my sister!” He growled, a surprisingly deep rumbling in his chest that wasn’t even close to human.

Inari-sama actually laughed, a startlingly warm sound. “I wouldn’t dare,” they assured Naruto. “Not when she has such a loyal protector.”

“I’ll always protect my precious people,” Naruto said fiercely, “and she’s my most precious person ever!”

Inari-sama made a rumbling sound almost like a purr. “I am so very proud to call you both mine,” they said. “You both have my blessings, from this day forth until your last. Until we meet again,” they bowed their head before disappearing in a burst of white foxfire.

“Why’d Nari-chan act all weird?" Naruto complained, putting his hands on his hips and pouting at the spot where the fox-god had disappeared. “Are ya okay, Ko-ane?”

Sansa wasn’t okay. She really wasn’t okay. “I will be. In a minute.” She told Naruto, taking deep breaths. The divine serenity of the shrine helped. So did Naruto’s presence, leaning into him and melding his chakra with her own. “I think Nari-chan might have been hiding a secret from you, Naruto,” she said slowly, trying to work out how to explain the situation without making Naruto feel as if he’d been betrayed or tricked. “I think they might have been undercover– like a ninja.”

Naruto gasped, his blue eyes widening. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed. “I think Nari-can was actually the real Inari-sama.”

“Whoa,” Naruto breathed. “Inari-sama is a super good ninja! I didn’t guess at all!”

Sansa actually laughed, feeling the panic ease from where it was crushing her chest. “They are, aren’t they?” she agreed. “But you know this means we have to keep it a secret, right? We don’t want to ruin Inari-sama’s cover.”

“Right,” Naruto said, nodding determinedly. “We gotta have Inari-sama’s back. ‘Cause we’re com-rad-es.”

“That’s right,” Sansa agreed, heartachingly fond as she pulled Naruto down so he was kneeling next to her and she could wrap her arms around him, hugging him tight and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We’re comrades.”

~

Stepping into her mindscape this time was less uncomfortable then it had been ever since Danzo had used the Kotoamatsukami on her. This was because of the white glowing fire that now flickered along the branches of the trees, illuminating the forest of the godswood– Sansa immediately recognised the fire. Or rather, the foxfire. You both have my blessings, from this day forth until your last, Inari-sama had said. That had apparently been more literal than she had realised.

It was beautiful, almost ghostly; it danced along the pale-trunked branches, like fire and mist and magic, all at once. She dared not try to touch it, for like the ancient faces carved into the weirwood trees, there was an air to the foxfire, a mysticism, that whispered of something beyond her, something beyond mortal comprehension. 

Kurama appeared more wistful than enraged or afraid, which was also an improvement, and after climbing through the branches of the heart-tree that formed their cage, the only tree in the godswood not touched by the god-fire, Sansa curled up against the thick, warm fur that crackled with chakra and told them of the shrine and Inari-sama’s visit. Kurama had a good laugh at Naruto picking Inari-sama up and carrying the god around like a pet cat, appearing sadistically amused by both Inari-sama’s circumstances and Sansa’s own panic.

All playful joking aside, the blessing really was appreciated by them both, as it made the effects of the Mangekyou Sharingan easier to deal with– Kurama didn’t have to extend so much energy dealing with the constant headaches she should be experiencing fighting the genjutsu, for one, and with how it lit up the trees, the burning skies weren’t quite so eye-searingly bright above them.

Once Sansa had finished catching Kurama up on everything, she took a deep breath. “Kurama,” she said, “I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?” Kurama rumbled, tilting their giant head slightly from where it was resting on their paws, stretched out lazily as they were in their heart-tree cage.

“It’s time to start breaking the seal trapping you,” Sansa said with steely determination.

Kurama’s ears immediately swivelled forwards. “You think you’re ready?” They asked.

“Honestly, I think it would be dangerously arrogant for me to assume I would be at that level,” Sansa admitted. “But I have been learning sealing from an Uzushio seal-mistress for three years now so I do think I’m at a level where I can begin to at least deconstruct how it was made, and that is the first step.”

“…thank you for your honesty,” Kurama said quietly.

“Of course,” Sansa replied earnestly, “and Kurama? Even if I hadn’t made a deal with you, I would still free you. Trapping you like this, it isn’t right. And one day, I’m going to free your siblings too– or I will do my gods be honest best.”

“I will never understand humans,” Kurama decided with a grumble, but Sansa just laughed, stretching herself up to kiss the side of their muzzle.

“We’re a contrary species,” she agreed. “But I hope some of us have grown on you.”

“Like a damned fungus,” Kurama said sourly. But they didn’t push her away as she curled up against them, half burying herself in their crackling fur, so Sansa didn’t think they were too opposed to her presence and she smiled to herself as she closed her eyes and rested with her Pack.

~

Naruto hadn’t wanted to go back to the Academy yet, but after three days of Ko-ane being home his sister had insisted that he return. She said she didn’t want him falling behind and that he needed to become a strong ninja if he wanted to be a Kage. Which he did. So, very reluctantly, he had hugged her tight, feeling how all that whooshy-whirly-wild chakra stuff inside him clung to the cold-deep-wet chakra stuff inside her, a bit like the red-burning-hot chakra stuff they both had, but different. It felt good. It made him feel whole. She was the only one in the whole village who felt like that and it always made her go all soft and smiley when it happened.

He liked it when Ko-ane went all soft and smiley. She was too sad and too angry all the time. Not at him, never at him! But Konoha had hurt her a lot and she hated Konoha and it made him hate Konoha too. He knew better then to ever tell anyone that, though– Ko-ane and Tama-neechan had taught him better than that!

Naruto arrived at the Academy on time, mostly because he left early enough that he could travel through the backstreets without arriving late– traveling through the market would mean being held up by people wanting to yell at the ‘demon brat’.

People were so stupid. Ko-ane had explained to him when he was little how he wasn’t a demon or a brat, he just had a special chakra fox trapped in his belly. Naruto knew everyone hated his belly-fox, but he didn’t! Ko-ane told him all about how his belly-fox didn’t mean to attack Konoha, but how a bad man had forced them to, through a really strong genjutsu. Except nobody knew about the meanie’s genjutsu, so they just thought his belly-fox wanted to attack Konoha. And now his belly-fox was stuck in a jail in Naruto’s belly for no reason. Which made Naruto really sad.

When he was a bit older, Ko-ane had told him she’d teach him how to say hello to the belly-fox, so they weren't so lonely and angry, all by themselves in a belly-jail. Until then, she said he had to eat lots of healthy food like fruits and vegetables to make sure his belly-fox stayed healthy. That had been when he was just four, before Old Man Hokage made her disappear, so Naruto hoped he was old enough to talk to his belly-fox now. He planned on asking Ko-ane soon.

It was all a really big secret though, that Naruto couldn’t tell anyone. Ko-ane told him all these secrets, because she knew she could trust him and knew he wouldn’t tell anyone. It was a super big responsibility, but Naruto was a good brother. He was super trustworthy.

…he also didn’t really have any friends to tell, anyway, so it didn’t really matter.

He had Tama-neechan, but she was his boss. He worked hard for her and so she took really good care of him. Then there were the boys he ran with in the Yūkaku, who he really liked, but he knew better then to ever trust with anything. Seriously– there was no honour among thieves, as Tama-neechan liked to say, which basically meant even though they were cool they'd sell him out in a second if it meant earning more money. And then there was the Academy, which was… well, it was the Academy.

He’d had to repeat his first year twice because the senseis didn’t teach him to read and write, so he couldn’t pass the end-of-year test and everybody moved up without him, then he didn’t pass the second year test because he couldn’t do any of the katas or throw any of the senbon or kunai or shuriken, because the senseis had refused to teach him, always sending him out of the class or making him sit in the corner of the classroom and face the wall while the rest of the class was outside learning. Old Man Hokage had been really mad about that when he found out. Naruto hadn’t seen any of those senseis around the Academy since.

At least he was in a class with people his own age now. And after Tama-neechan had pushed him into being friends with Kiba and Shikamaru, he decided they weren’t too bad. Kiba was loud like him and he loved dogs, and so did Naruto– well, Naruto preferred wolves, but he also loved dogs, especially the strays that came and visited him that were so smart and had eyes that reminded him so much of Ko-ane that he could never kick them out of his apartment, no matter how much they smelled. And Shikamaru was lazy but he was smart, not quite as smart as Ko-ane, but still smart, plus he was always with Chōji and Chōji always had extra food and Naruto never had enough food, despite how carefully he saved his money, and Chōji was so nice about sharing.

Mizuki and Iruka weren’t too bad either, as far as senseis went. Mizuki smelled sour but he mostly just ignored Naruto and pretended he didn’t exist so that was okay. Iruka actually showed him how to do stuff and he sometimes said good morning and asked if Naruto was going okay, so that was pretty cool.

Iruka was standing at the front of the classroom marking attendance when Naruto practically bounced into the classroom, a beaming smile on his face as he made his way over to his desk. Iruka blinked over at him, pausing in place. “Naruto,” he said, “this is a surprise. I was expecting another absence. Have you been unwell?”

“Nope!” Naruto said cheerfully. “I’ve been celebrating!”

Iruka’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’ve been missing class because you’ve been celebrating,” he said, in that warning voice that all teachers use. Naruto was almost too happy to notice, but he pretended he hadn't anyway– he wasn’t that unobservant, but he did know enough to pretend to be. Tama-neechan, Ko-ane and Ka-ane had all taught him about pretending to be sillier than he really was. It had helped him get away with a lot.

“Uh-huh,” he told Iruka, nodding happily as he sat down and kicking his legs back and forth, still pretending not to notice the growing scowl on his teacher’s face as he beamed up at him. “I finally got my sister back!”

A sudden, shocked silence settled over the classroom, his words pulling everyone’s attention from their own conversations to the one he was having with Iruka. “You have a sister?” Kiba yelped loudly, his chair slamming back to all fours from where he’d been leaning back and balancing on the back two legs with no hands. Which was super cool, actually.

“Yep,” Naruto bobbed his head up and down, scowling furiously. “Three years ago, when we started the ‘cadamey, the bastard sensei of our class stabbed her during kata practice and they took her to the hospital then that fucker Danzo, one of the Elders on the Council, he stole her ‘cause she’s really super smart and he kept her in his super secret Root army that he hid from the Hokage with a bunch of orphan kids he stole, and he stole some clan kids too for their bloodlines, plus he stole a bunch of Uchiha eyeballs that he put in his arm to use, and I didn’t get ta see my sister again until she was rescued a couple of days ago by ANBU and Jiraiya, who’s one of the Legendary Sannin!”

Pandemonium erupted in the classroom as kids started to shout at him, at each other, at the teachers, all demanding to know if Naruto was lying, if he was telling the truth, what had happened.

Naruto leaned back in his chair, biting back a grin as the chaos unfolded around him, just like Ko-ane had said it would. The court of public opinion, she’d assured him, was an ugly one– and it wasn’t going to treat Old Man Hokage well. If he thought that the whole Root matter was going to be carefully contained and classified within the upper shinobi ranks, then he was going to get a nasty surprise. Basically, Ko-ane had told him, when he’d looked confused, Old Man Hokage was going to be asked a lot of very annoying questions by very angry people who were going to be very mad at him.

And that made Naruto very happy.  

Chapter Text

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you for all the beautiful comments people have been leaving over the past few chapters <3 Even if I don't reply, please know that I read and appreciate every single one of them and they inspire me so much to keep writing!

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE:

Adjusting to freedom was difficult. With the lack of structure that Root had provided, Sansa found herself at a loss. Having nothing to do set her teeth on edge, winding her anxiety tighter by the second until it felt as if she would shatter apart. She remembered feeling a similar way after her years spent a hostage at Kings Landing, and later after her escape from Ramsay.

She still didn’t even know what had happened to Koi, she only knew that he was still alive because she could feel the string of his chakra connected to the master-seal. She was tempted to follow it, but fear held her back. She didn’t want to reveal her connection to the Root members, to reveal that she could find them. Instead, she decided to bring them to her, to bring Root out from the shadows and into the open.

So, she sent Naruto off to the Academy with a message to give that would turn the village upside down.

It worked.

It took less than two hours after Naruto left for the Academy for her to be summoned to the Hokage Tower, to the Sandaime’s office where he stood waiting behind his desk. Jiraiya, who she had not seen since their arrival in Konoha, was also present, standing just off to the side.

They thought to intimidate her. She was not intimidated. She was Sansa Stark of Winterfell, the first Queen of the North, the Queen Mother of the Seven Kingdoms. She was Uzumaki Fuyuko of Uzushio, Princess of the Whirlpools, Sister to the future Uzukage. Only the gods themselves could cower her.

“What,” the Hokage demanded of her, as she was forced before him, “have you done.”

It wasn’t even a question. It didn’t need to be.

Sansa almost smiled. The men in her life had always ultimately been the architects of their own defeat and Sarutobi Hiruzen would be no exception.

“I’m playing the game of thrones,” she answered. And when you played the game of thrones, you either won or you died. There was no middle ground.

Sansa did not intend to lose.

The Hokage’s hard eyes bored into her own and Sansa did not lower her head, meeting his stare with her own. She wondered what he saw in her eyes, if he saw the years she’d lived, the trials she’d suffered, the battles she’d lost, the wars that she’d won. She wondered if he saw the fire-bright fox-cunning and flickering-shining kami-blessing. She wondered if he saw the endless depths of the oceans, the unfathomable shadows of death.

She hoped he did. She hoped it terrified him, to know just who he had pitted himself against.

The Hokage turned away first and Sansa’s lips curled back, leaving the slightest hint of sharp teeth visible, a glint of victory. “Leave,” the Hokage said hoarsely.

Sansa turned and left.

She did not bow.

~

“She may have Kushina’s colouring,” Jiraiya said, looking out after Fuyuko, his slightly widened eyes a visible sign of how shaken he was, “but that was all Minato.”

Thinking of his successor, of Konoha’s sunshine-gold, whirlwind Hokage, Hiruzen couldn’t help but grimace in agreement. Minato was revered in the memory of Konoha’s people, a pillar of greatness that no living person could possibly rise up to meet.

What people didn’t, couldn’t, remember about their beloved Fourth was how coldly, even viciously ruthless he had been. In the span of a single battle, Minato had once practically won a nine-year war for them by killing over thousand Iwa shinobi– men, women and children; he spared none. Years later, that ruthlessness shone through once more when he chose to seal the Kyuubi into his own newborn children instead of his dying wife, knowing that to seal it in Kushina would be to lose the Kyuubi with her death and without having a Jinchūriki, Konoha would be vulnerable to the other Hidden Villages.

Minato could smile so warmly at people, could talk to them, make them feel so special, could make them believe in him, in his strength, in his dreams of a better future. He was charismatic, a leader amongst men, a shining hope.

But his eyes.

Fuyuko had his eyes.

An impenetrable fortress that no enemy force could breach; only allies were ever allowed past those defences.

Minato had caught Hiruzen’s attention young; the boy had been brilliant, outshining the Clan heirs at the Academy despite being a no name orphan who’d been forcefully enlisted in the Academy in preparation for the upcoming war. Hiruzen knew a child prodigy when he saw one, he’d had one of his own in Orochimaru, and he knew he needed to nurture and guide such talent, to ensure the boy’s loyalty never strayed from the village. That was why he’d pulled strings to have Jiraiya assigned as the boy’s jōnin instructor. And Jiraiya had done his job well, reeling the boy in, giving him roots, helping him form connections.

Jiraiya had done an even better job then he could have hoped. He’d succeeded with Minato where Hiruzen himself had failed with Orochimaru.

And where he’d failed with Fuyuko.

Perhaps Jiraiya would have better luck with Fuyuko where Hiruzen had not.

“I want you to offer her lessons,” he told his student, though they both knew it wasn’t a request.

“Sensei, I can’t,” Jiraiya immediately argued. “She hates me, she’d never agree to travel with me–”

“I don’t mean for you to take her with you,” Hiruzen corrected, “separating her from Naruto now would destroy any remaining trust she has left in us. No, I want you to offer her lessons in sealing between now and the Chūnin Exams.”

Jiraiya tensed, unhappy to be reminded again of the exams, but Hiruzen wouldn’t budge on the matter. He also knew that Jiraiya wouldn’t say no to anything that might help his goddaughter survive the exams.

“Fine,” Jiraiya said, defeated. “I’ll try. But I don’t think she’ll accept the help.”

“She’s a remarkably pragmatic child,” Hiruzen disagreed. “I believe she will. But not if you approach her as a godfather.”

“No,” Jiraiya agreed quietly. “No, she won’t be looking for a godfather. She’ll be looking for a shinobi.”

And there was no room for softness, for love, in the life of a shinobi.

Shinobi only endure.

~

Sansa ignored the eyes on her as she waited for Naruto outside the Academy. There weren’t as many parents as there normally were– the Clans, it seemed, were busy finding answers about Root and Danzo. It was the civilian parents present and they hadn’t seen her for three years, so it took time for them to recognise her, to realise who she was.

Sansa hadn’t bothered to wear a scarf over her hair, or dirt to hide the marks on her face. She had left such tactics in the past where they belonged. Instead, she had braided her jewel-bright hair into a crown and used the deep, almost Tully-blue paints that Naruto had confessed he used for his pranks to line the whiskers on her cheeks. On her forehead, where most Konoha shinobi wore their forehead protectors with the Konoha symbol, she had streaked an Uzushio swirl in the blood-red of arterial spray.

It was her rebellion, making her stand. If asked to elaborate, she would say she was proud of her heritage. Nobody could prove otherwise. Nobody would truly think a seven-year-old child would understand the link to a fallen village.

They would be wrong.

When Naruto bounded out of the Academy, accompanied by a young man in his late teens, he drew the eyes of nearly everyone in the yard, child and adult alike. Sansa wasn’t surprised. Her brother had learned to be bright, to be loud; his grin rarely leaving his lean, sharp face, already angular and vulpine despite his young age. Her Naruto was a storm, howling winds and hurricanes; so relentlessly, unapologetically alive; he was a force of nature, and he was hers.

The villagers were right to whisper, to look at him as he laughed and shone, a magnificent burning star that threatened to blind anyone who stared too long. Let them hate, let them turn away; they didn’t deserve him, didn’t deserve his brilliance. They never had.

The young man next to Naruto faltered when she stepped forwards. His eyes darted to the marks on her cheeks, to her forehead, to her hair, then to her eyes. His scent was wary, but not outright afraid, and for that at least she commended him.

“Ko-ane!” Naruto almost bowled her over as he let go of his teacher’s hand and leaped at her. Sansa barely managed to anchor herself in place as his arms flung around her before burying her face in the curve of his neck, letting her chakra merge with his, hurricanes and oceans creating a whirlpool, before reluctantly pulling away, pausing only to rub her cheek against his.

“How was your day?” she asked, reaching to tuck a strand of sunshine-gold hair behind his ear. Naruto’s eyes sparkled with mischief even as he casually shrugged.

It hadn’t escaped her clever brother’s notice that his teacher was listening to their conversation– and that he wasn’t the only one.

“It was super weird,” Naruto said, all faux-earnestness and mock-confusion, “I told everyone about what happened to you, and lots of the other kids left. They said they had to go talk to their mamas and their papas.”

“I imagine it was scary for them to hear,” Sansa said solemnly. “They must have thought they were safe in the village. It must have been horrible to realise that they weren’t safe at all– that someone who was trusted enough by the Hokage to be on the Council could have stolen them for a secret army!”

Naruto’s teacher quickly cut in then– but the damage was already done; Sansa could feel how panic was spiking through the chakra of the eavesdropping civilians, anger too, could see how they were all reaching for their children, wanting to hold them closer. And despite stepping forwards, even the teacher was perturbed, his chakra surging uneasily, upset.

“Hello,” he greeted her, his eyes carefully not straying from hers. “I’m Umino Iruka, your brother’s sensei.”

“Hello Umino-san,” Sansa greeted him politely, because Naruto had had nothing but nice things to say about this particular teacher, especially in comparison to the others that had taught him. And considering that Konoha’s schooling system operated in a way that each class of students had the same two teachers for the entire six-year rotation, it would only be beneficial to have a positive relationship with the young man. “I’m Uzumaki Fuyuko,” she introduced herself. “I’m Naruto’s sister.”

“Naruto’s spoken quite a bit about you today,” Iruka said warmly. “Will you be joining us in class soon, Fuyuko-chan?”

“Ah,” Sansa said, pausing slightly, “not quite, Umino-san. I’m already a genin.”

“Oh,” Iruka looked surprised. Sansa let her smile sharpen, lips pulling back enough to let her sharp teeth glint.

“Shimura Danzo was many things, Umino-san,” she said. “A monster. A thief. A master manipulator. And a very effective sensei.”

Iruka had paled.

“So it’s true,” he whispered shakily, before pulling a face like he hadn’t meant to say that at all.

“It’s true.” Sansa said calmly. “Every word.” Iruka let out a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry.” He said. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Sansa blinked. “You know,” she said slowly, “out of everything people have said and done since I was rescued from Root, I think you’re actually the first person to tell me that. That I didn’t deserve to have that happen to me.” Tilting her head slightly, she looked up at Iruka in a new light. He was still a shinobi teaching child soldiers how to kill. But… he was kind. That was a rarity in any world. “I can see why Naruto likes you,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

“Iruka-sensei’s pretty cool,” Naruto agreed. Sansa linked her fingers through his, enjoying the feeling of the warmth of Naruto’s palm leeching through to her cool skin. She’d always run colder then him.

“Come on, little prince,” she murmured, low enough that only Naruto’s sharp ears would hear, “let’s go home.”

Naruto led the way, taking her the safest path. It included running over rooftops and Sansa was appropriately impressed by how far Naruto could jump, though her heart did leap up to her throat a time or two. She was much less impressed when they arrived back at the apartment, only to find a familiar figure waiting there.

Reacting to her immediate hostility, Naruto growled, his claws coming out as he bristled, moving in front of her. Sansa put a calming hand on his shoulder, letting her chakra wash over him even as she looked evenly up at Jiraiya.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I can’t come visit my own godchildren?” he asked, arching an eyebrow down at her.

“No,” Sansa said bluntly. “You lost that privilege seven, nearly eight now, years ago.”

Jiraiya grimaced.

“I had a duty–”

“You did,” Sansa agreed. “To us.”

“Who is he?” Naruto asked, still glowering at Jiraiya. Their chakra was so deeply intertwined that Sansa could feel the hints of Kurama’s burning chakra creeping through and she immediately pressed it down, pressed it back, pouring the freezing, icy depths of her ocean so quickly into her brother that he actually swayed on the spot. The very last thing she wanted was for Jiraiya to realise how easily and regularly Naruto used Kurama’s chakra– not when she knew it would immediately get back to the Hokage.

“Let’s go inside,” she said, using the grip she still had on Naruto’s hand to casually pull his arm over her shoulders, making it look like a protective gesture, rather then like he was leaning on her. “Don’t use the burning red,” she warned Naruto in the Old Tongue as they stepped into the apartment.

“I won’t, I promise,” Naruto said, sounding a little woozy still. “That felt strange.”

“I’m sorry. I panicked.” Sansa apologised, feeling guilty.

“What language is that?” Jiraiya asked, having followed them inside and closed the door behind them.

Settling down on the tatami mat, Naruto curling up on the ground beside her, resting his head on her lap where she could run her fingers through his lovely, bright-sunshine hair, Sansa answered, “nobody really spoke to us when we were young. We made up our own language. As we got older, we kept making up more words for it. Our older sister at the orphanage, Kanna, she helped us.”

“Impressive,” Jiraiya said, his eyes sharp, “but you are impressive, aren’t you?”

Sansa stared coolly back at him. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“No,” Jiraiya said, nodding. “It won’t, will it? But pragmatism will. In four months, you’ll be competing in the Chūnin Exams. Genin who are three times your age die in those exams. Now, I’m offering to train you, one-to-one, for those four months. You may not think much of me as a godfather, but I’m one of the Legendary Sannin for a reason, I’m the most successful spymaster in the Elemental Countries and my student became a Hokage. You’re not going to get a better, more qualified offer then me.”

Sansa looked back at him, cold faced. “You’re right,” she said. “And I will accept. Because I have too much I want to do, to die in that exam. But after those four months are up, I never want to see your face again.”

“Ko-ane,” Naruto asked, looking up at her from his upside-down position on her lap, a little, troubled frown on his face, “what does godfather mean? And why are you talking about dying?”

Sansa looked over at Jiraiya. “Well,” she said, with a certain sadistic relish in her voice, “do you feel like answering this one?”

Jiraiya frankly looked like it was the last thing he felt like doing.

If Sansa was being truly honest, she wasn’t getting as much enjoyment out of his predicament as she acted. This was going to hurt Naruto and she preferred to protect him from pain, where possible. Oh she wouldn’t shelter him from it to the point of foolishness, not the way her parents had sheltered her from the dangers of the South, leaving her pitifully naïve, a little dove to be torn apart and eaten alive by the rabid beasts at Kings Landing, but pain for the sake of pain? What point was there in that?

Stroking a hand through Naruto’s hair, Sansa sighed. “A godfather,” she murmured, “is someone who is meant to be a parent, if the birth parents die. Jiraiya was supposed to adopt us. But he left instead.”

“He didn’t want us?” Naruto whispered, tears filling his eyes. “Is it because of our belly-fox?” he asked in the Old Tongue.

“No, my little prince,” Sansa assured him in the same tongue, before switching back. “He just decided other things were more important.”

“That’s not fair,” Jiraiya said quietly. “I wanted you to be safe. Making sure Konoha was safe was the best way to ensure that. You wouldn’t have been safe if Konoha was at war.”

“Maybe,” Sansa admitted, as Naruto turned his head so his face was pressed against her stomach, hiding the tears she could feel seeping through the material of the dress Tenzo had bought her at the town they’d stayed in, “or maybe not. We’ll never know now. All we’ll know is that you weren’t there when we needed you. And that’s all we’ll ever know.”

Jiraiya was silent for a long moment then he nodded.

“As for the exam,” Sansa continued, still stroking Naruto’s hair as she listened to his hitched breathing, “do you remember your lessons about shinobi ranks?” She felt Naruto nod and explained, “for me to become a chūnin, the Hokage insists that I compete in the next Chūnin Exams. Only, they’re very dangerous and sometimes people die in them. But I won’t. Because I have you to come back to. Nothing will keep us apart. Never.” She vowed.

She’d do whatever it took– even accept Jiraiya’s training, if it meant coming home to Naruto.

~

Despite what people thought, Shikaku, Inoichi and Chōza didn’t get to meet up as often as they’d like. All three of them were the Heads of their Clans, Shikaku was the Jōnin Commander, Inoichi the Head of the T&I Department and Chōza and his wife ran a successful chain of restaurants on top of his duties as a jōnin and occasional jōnin instructor. At least since their children had been born they’d had the excuse to meet up more, as Shikamaru, Ino and Chōji would be the next Ino-Shika-Chō Trio and getting the three familiar with working together was important, not just for their future teamwork but for their future survival.

Their children weren’t at this meeting, though, for all that it involved them.

It was Chōza who spoke up first, after Shikaku had casually activated the seals under the short-leg table they were kneeling around. It gave them a two-yard radius that no sound would escape from and the solid walls around them ensured no eyes could see inside.

“So I hear Naruto-kun caused an outrage in his class today,” Chōza commented mildly.

“I think everyone has heard,” Shikaku said dryly. “If there’s one thing a clan child of any age is conditioned to take seriously, it’s bloodline theft. And if someone talks about stolen clan children and bloodline theft in a class full of young clan heirs, that’s like throwing a bloody carcass at a pack of starving wolves. They’re not going to stay quiet. It took less than ten minutes for every Clan child in the Academy to hear. The Clan children proceeded to leave their classes, against the protests of their teachers, and in less than an hour, every parent of an Academy-aged child had also heard, as had every member of their Clan.

“Meanwhile, the rest of the Academy children, the ones who weren’t Clan heirs, told their parents during lunch break what they’d heard Naruto-kun say about Root and Danzo, parents who went on to gossip about it with their friends and family, and before the Academy even ended for the day, the entire village had heard about the debacle in some shape or form– and believe me, the re-telling of it gets even worse the further it goes on.

“Ultimately, it spread too quickly for it to be shut down. The Sandaime couldn’t control how the story spread, not like he was before, stating that ‘investigations were ongoing’. Now Root’s existence and Danzo’s part in it is common knowledge to shinobi and civilians alike, the Clans all know that their children have been stolen, Uchiha Sasuke knows that his Clan’s bloodline was stolen and abused by a village Elder from the corpses of his massacred Clan, and everyone is demanding answers.”

“Fuyuko-chan outmanoeuvred him,” Inoichi murmured, and there was something very much like approval playing at the corners of his mouth. It was a more vindictive expression then he’d normally wear, especially for something that danced dangerously close to treason against the Hokage, but there had been Yamanaka among those recovered from Root and Inoichi was not the forgiving type, not when it came to family.

“You’re sure it was her?” Chōza asked. There was a very serious expression on his face.

“Shikamaru told me exactly what Naruto said to their class,” Shikaku confirmed with a slight nod. “While upfront it sounds like childish babbling, when you really listen, every word is calculated to be as inflammatory as possible. Shikamaru told me Naruto was gleeful afterwards, even if he tried to hide it. Shikamaru said it was the same expression he wears when he’s just played a prank. It was definitely Fuyuko-chan’s influence and it was clearly a calculated move. Hokage-sama was keeping the Root investigation contained, involving the least amount of people possible. He was trying to work out a cover-up, even if he didn’t say it in so many words. Fuyuko-chan just made that impossible. She dragged Root out of the ground, straight into the sunlight to die.”

“Can we really blame her, though?” Inoichi asked, to which none of them could answer. It was bad enough that there had been Yamanaka and Nara operatives in Root; if any of their children had been abducted by Danzo and put through the inhumane training regimen that was Root training, they’d be burning everything and everyone involved to ash then salting the earth to ensure nothing ever grew again.

“She’s focusing her ire on Root, I say we let her,” Inoichi said darkly. “Root was always a poison in the village, let’s help her target her rage so she doesn’t try turning it elsewhere and gets herself into trouble she can’t get out of.”

“We may be too late for that,” Shikaku said grimly and Inoichi and Chōza both looked at him, questioning in both their eyes. “It was part of the deal the Hokage made with her, to have the Uzumaki recognised as a Clan,” Shikaku explained, reluctantly. “She has to compete in the next Chūnin Exams. She agreed.”

Inoichi looked horrified as Chōza looked between them, uneasy. “But aren’t they–”

“Yes,” Shikaku confirmed. “The next Chūnin Exams are being held in Kiri.”

And all three of them remembered exactly what Kiri had done to the Uzumaki.

“Kakashi is not going to be happy about this,” Inoichi said grimly.

“No,” Chōza said quietly. “No, he is not.”

~

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FORTY:

Jiraiya wasn't Root, but he was a harsh teacher. Sansa had been hoping to find Tama and thank her, or to try and reel Kakashi into spending more time with her and Naruto, stress-fear-grief his all-too constant companion as he hovered at the edges of their lives, but the day after she agreed to be trained by him Jiraiya woke her at dawn and took her to the training grounds where he had her run six miles.

And it all went down from there. Somehow.

She walked five dogs, weeded two gardens and caught the most murderously unhappy cat in the Fire Country then had a brief break for lunch before participating in two gruelling hours of taijutsu training followed by an introduction to ninjutsu.

Jiraiya had to carry her home at eight in the evening, long after the sun had sunk below the horizon, where she managed to force down the dinner that Naruto had prepared– it was surprisingly good, and she was as proud as she was saddened that he'd come a long way in the years he'd been alone– before changing out of her filthy, sweat-stained training clothes she had borrowed from Naruto that morning and collapsing in bed. 

It felt as if she had barely been asleep twenty minutes before she jerked awake, instinct alone tearing her from sleep, her body already moving to throw herself sideways to avoid the bucket of water that was splashing down where she had been resting just moments before. Jiraiya stood over her, smirking, empty bucket in hand. 

"Good morning!" He said cheerfully, even as Naruto, who'd also jerked awake, growled at him, claws out and teeth bared. Glancing out the window, Sansa could still see the stars blanketing the velvety night sky and felt like growling herself.

Damn everything to the Seven Hells.

It was almost like being back in Root. Gruelling twelve to fourteen-hour days filled with back-to-back D-ranks, hours of taijutsu and ninjutsu training, and impersonal interactions consisting only of criticisms that pointed out each and every flaw.

A normal child would struggle under such a harsh regime. Sansa suspected she was supposed to be struggling. That like Danzo, Jiraiya was trying to break her down in order to build her back up in an image of his own choosing. She knew it for a fact when a week in he started to give tiny little scraps of praise.  She was supposed to hunger for that praise, to act according to his desires in order to receive it.

And there was a part of her that was tempted. A part that, after a week of being beaten down and torn apart so brutally, couldn't help but yearn for it, for those brief, fleeting moments where he smiled at her, when he told her she'd done well. But Sansa had learned her lessons from Petyr and Cersei and Danzo. She knew how games like this worked. She wasn't a beaten bitch to go begging for scraps at the feet of her master. She was a She-Wolf of Winterfell and she knew her worth.

At some point, she knew that Jiraiya had realised she knew what he was doing. It even became somewhat of a game between them; he was cunning, as much as Sansa loathed to admit it. He had to be, despite the public persona he wore, to run such an extensive information network as he boasted. But Sansa was cunning too, and there was a certain thrill in finding a worthy opponent to dance with.

She wouldn't forgive him. She never would. Not for the tears Naruto had cried over his abandonment, for the loss on her little brother's small face, the heartbreak in those big blue eyes. She wouldn't forgive him, but in the time she had given Jiraiya before the Chūnin Exams she would give him the closest version of her true self that anyone but those in her Pack got to see; for the efforts that he had once made, to keep her out of Danzo's reach, he deserved that much. But he would get nothing else from her.

Kakashi didn't approve. She could tell by the way he hovered, uncertain of his welcome yet at the same time unwilling to leave, his eyes tracking the bruises Jiraiya left, bruises that would always vanish overnight, his chakra flaring with rage. Sansa would always lean into him, tug on his hand until it was wrapped loosely around her neck, where he could feel the steady beating of her pulse and his chakra would ease into something less violent and furious, blanketing around her, as protective as the one who wielded it.

Sansa had fretted that without her influence, Kakashi would keep his distance from Naruto. Originally, it seemed as if her fears held true; Naruto never spoke of spending time with Kakashi while she was training with Jiraiya, nor did she find Kakashi lingering around the apartment when she returned in the evenings. But then came the day she staggered home from training to find Kakashi awkwardly helping Naruto make dinner, hovering behind the small boy as Naruto lectured him about the amount of spices to put in and how finely they should chop the vegetables and the ideal heat of the frying pan. 

Sansa had paused in the doorway to the apartment, delight bubbling up inside her as she took in the sight, tears threatening to obscure her vision. It was everything she wanted for them both, a bond tentative and fragile but crafted of limitless potential. Watching Naruto beam up at Kakashi and watching Kakashi tentatively ruffle Naruto's sunshine-bright hair, Sansa knew it was the beginning for them, the beginning of something beautiful. 

And then she broke her wrist during training. 

Sansa had broken bones training before; Root was not a kind place and at one point the medic-nins had wanted to test how quickly her bones could heal after breaking. Jiraiya at least took her to the hospital to get it healed, but it was still bandaged when she returned home and when Kakashi saw it his face went blank and his chakra crackled with fury. He disappeared before Sansa could say a word and he didn't return.

Jiraiya said nothing during their training the following day, but that evening Kakashi didn't show.

He didn't show the following day either.

~

With the stress of her training and Kakashi's disappearance, Tsukiko's warning of the Full Moon Hunt had slipped Sansa's mind entirely, which was why it was such a shock when she found herself unceremoniously and without warning reverse-summoned to the clearing where she had first been introduced to Sayomi.

It was the middle of the night, the full, heavy moon having reached its peak in the sky. Tsukiko, Lady and Lady's litter-mates were not alone in the clearing when Sansa arrived. Instead, there were sixteen spirit wolves present, including Tsukiko, Lady, Gin, Haya, Katsu and Suki. Sayomi stepped forwards to greet her, the midnight-dark wolf almost blending in with the dark of the woods until she stepped under the moon and its glow turned her fur almost silver.

"The light of the mother moon blesses our meeting on this night, Sansa Stark Uzumaki Fuyuko," she rumbled.

"May her light bless us as we go forth and Hunt," Sansa replied, meeting Sayomi's eyes without letting her chin drop an inch. She could feel the growing pressure of Sayomi's will pressing against hers. But she remembered what Tsukiko had told her; she had to assert her will over the Pack. She could not back down to Sayomi, the Pack's alpha.  

Sayomi's lips pulled back, revealing jagged teeth as large as daggers as she snarled, a terrifying sound that ripped through the entire clearing. Sansa bared her own teeth, small but just as sharp, reaching for that place inside her, that part of her soul that was so deeply intertwined with Lady that they were one even where they were apart, that part of her soul with claws and fangs wrapped in silvery moonlight, and she snarled back.

Sayomi relaxed from her hostile posture almost immediately, now radiating approval. "You pass the first test," she said. "Now, it is time to Hunt."

Sansa nodded, and closed her eyes for a moment, letting her senses search for any trace of life. Every creature, even some plants, had a spark of chakra in them, and Sansa had enough practice tracking with Lady's littermates through the forest that she suspected Tsukiko had been training her for this since the beginning.

"Lady," she murmured, finally locating the spark she was looking for. Lady loped forwards, ears alert and excited. Sansa easily climbed onto her back, as at home there as she would be anywhere. She slid briefly into Lady's mind, showed her where their prey was, and then Lady was running, howling for the pack to follow.

It was exhilarating. Leading the pack, feeling the bonds of the other wolves, feeling the thrill of the Hunt around her. The full moon seemed to have stirred something within them all, something primal, and Sansa's heart was thudding in her chest, her blood singing, a howl of her own trapped between her teeth, waiting to be set free.

Their prey was alone, grazing when they found it in a clearing of its own.

The elk was magnificent. Pure white fur with a rack of antlers nearly five feet in length on either side, the enormous beast could crush Sansa with one stomp of its hoof. The wolves surrounded it, Sansa still on Lady's back, and it backed up, lowering its antlers threateningly. Sansa silently slid off Lady's back, darting on silent feet around to its hind-legs, away from the threatening antlers. It paid her no attention, too focused on the threat of the wolves. The chakra seal blazed on Sansa's hand as she pressed it against the hind-leg closest to her then sprinted back, out of its way as it jolted, staggering several steps before collapsing, its heart having abruptly stopped in its chest, just as Danzo's had.

Once the elk was down, Sansa didn't hesitate to lunge forwards, leaping on top of the downed elk. Tsukiko had been clear that she was expected to eat first and eat the best parts of the kill. Lady approached and Sansa didn't move when she used her teeth to tear open the belly of the elk, ripping through muscle to get to the organs inside. 

Another of the wolves, this one young-looking with fur a light brown that almost appeared golden, saw that Sansa wasn't chasing Lady away and tried to get close only for Sansa to snarl, letting Kurama's corrosive chakra flare in warning. When the wolf continued to approach, head lowered to snatch up what looked like a piece of liver, Sansa lashed out and the wolf yowled as Kurama's chakra burned.

"I am Lady, Lady is me," Sansa declared as the wolf back away, snarling. "We are one soul. This is our kill. We feast first."

But the wolf did not back down. They lunged forwards for her again, lashing out with claws that raked a line of burning pain down Sansa's hip. She gritted her teeth against the pain, Kurama's chakra flaring again to get the wolf to back away. She reached for Lady, her mind brushing against her wolf's, and they moved as one.

Lady was smaller than the other wolf, but she was vicious with it, faster, more agile, as she kept the wolf off Sansa, kept them distracted even as the wolf kept dancing away from Sansa, from the danger of her hands. The wolf was undoubtedly more experienced then Lady, but Lady fought as one who had already tasted the bitter, sharpened steel-edge of mortality, who had felt death's greedy grasp, and eventually the other wolf was forced to focus their attention fully on her and Sansa was able to slam her palm against one of their legs.

That was all it took.

There was a reason shinobi had spoken of Uzushio seal-masters and terror in one breath. There was a reason Kiri and Iwa had slaughtered the people of Uzushio then hunted down the survivors of Uzushio's destruction to slaughter them too, so their knowledge was forever lost, but for a dead woman whose ghost lived on in chakra and blood.  

Seals wielded by a seal-mistress of Uzushio were terrifying.

'You're going to be one of the greatest seal-mistresses alive' Shin had told her.

In this moment, as the wolf fell, paralysed by her seal, and Lady gently but pointedly rested her teeth around their throat in a show of dominance, applying just enough pressure for it to be felt, Sansa could believe Shin.

Sansa released the wolf from the paralysis and this time they did not try to come at her again, instead hanging their head and backing away, shuffling close to the ground, a new respect in their dark eyes. Victorious, Lady returned to their kill, Sansa close behind her. It was time for the last (and worst) part of the Hunt.

Steeling herself, Sansa leaned down and picked up the least objectional looking piece of... meat. It was just meat. She could do this. Taking a deep breath, she blocked her nose and just... chewed.

And chewed.

And chewed.

And, finally, swallowed.

She almost brought it back up, but after retching twice, Sansa managed to convince her stomach to keep the raw, fleshy piece of... meat down and, triumphant, she looked up to the moon and howled. The pack joined in, the sound of it almost shaking the earth around them as it reverberated through Sansa's body, to her very soul.

Once the feasting was over, Sayomi approached her. "Sansa Stark Uzumaki Fuyuko," she said, and her voice carried across the small clearing to all those within it, "you have defended this Pack, you have led us in battle, and now you have led us in a Hunt under the sacred Full Moon. You have the Heart of an Alpha and the Soul of a Wolf."

Two of the other spirit wolves walked over, and Sansa was surprised to see they were carrying the antler racks from the elk in their jaws. "Your prize," Sayomi said warmly. "From your first Hunt. May you use them wisely."

"Thank you," said Sansa, not quite sure what she would do with them.

"And a gift," Sayomi said, "hold out your wrist."

Sansa did as she said and Sayomi bent her large head, opened her massive jaws and very delicately... bit Sansa.

There was a flare of pain as dagger-sharp teeth cut into delicate flesh, but there was also a strange, shivery feeling of chakra that wasn't her own, pouring into the wound. When Sayomi released her arm, there was no wound, only a silvery scar that resembled a full moon.

"What– what was that for?" Sansa asked, confused, staring down at the strange scar.

Sayomi looked amused.

"I made you pack now, in truth," she said. "You are pack in the way only another wolf can be pack."

"I'm not about to turn into a wolf, am I?" Sansa asked, alarmed. "I have too much I need to do in the human realm to turn into a wolf!"

Sayomi laughed. "No, you won't turn into a wolf," she assured her. "But you will feel the bonds of pack more keenly, now. You were already Alpha in all but name to Gin, Haya, Katsu and Suki, now you are their Alpha in heart and soul. Kita is... unusual. I'm not sure what you are to her. Or what she is to you."

"We are one soul, in two bodies," Sansa answered immediately, and Sayomi dipped her head.

"As Taiyō lost his challenge to you, he is also now yours to call upon," she said. "You will no longer be able to call upon us all, as you have done previously; now, you have your own Pack to call upon." Sansa nodded her understanding of this. "A sacrifice of blood over your mark of the moon will summon your Pack to your side," Sayomi continued to explain. "It is your duty as Alpha to train with them and grow strong together." 

"I will take care of them all," Sansa vowed solemnly.

"I know you will," Sayomi agreed, the she-wolf sounding fond, "and I wish you many blessings in the years to come. May you find the peace you long for."

Sansa hoped so too.

She also hoped that someone would have an idea of what to do with a monstrously large pair of antlers, because she and Naruto certainly had no room in their apartment for them.

~

Jiraiya had given Sansa Sundays as her day off from training, making him a kinder master then Danzo– which he really hadn't appreciated her pointing out, sugar sweet with sharp teeth to match. She didn't care. If he didn't wish to be compared to Danzo, he shouldn't treat her as Danzo did. Like her choices didn't matter. Like this training, becoming a shinobi, had ever been something she'd wanted, and her soul didn't bleed in protest with every kata, and her heart didn't weep at the callouses on her hands, a warrior's hands.

Sansa had never been ashamed that she was not a warrior; she was a diplomat, a lady, and that had always been enough for her– she had been able to start and end wars just as effectively, if not more so, and more decisively so, then any warrior without ever needing to wield a sword.

But in this world, they equated strength with bloodshed and so Jiraiya was training her to be a weapon for his master to wield.

On the morning before Sansa left to attend her first Council meeting, she and Naruto made plans to visit the shrine together, a habit they'd started over the weeks where training had taken up the majority of Sansa's time.

Before she and Naruto left their apartment for the day, Sansa painted her face again, this time with the paints used by the "pretty neesans at Madam Ai's", as Naruto had proudly told her when he'd presented them to her with an eager smile. By which she assumed he meant the stage make-up used by the prostitutes, but Sansa was just touched that he'd gone out of his way to get her such a thoughtful present.

She'd spent her early childhood hiding her hair and whisker-marks from the villagers who vilified them for their Sacrifice, but now she painted the marks on her face bright and bold, Uzushio's symbol swirled proud on her forehead, and her hair done up in multiple little braids that were pulled back and twisted in a pattern that resembled fish-scales. The comb holding the braids together was carved from the elk's antlers; she'd sold them to one of the village's merchants, then used the money from the sale to commission from one of the antlers several pieces of jewellery. 

She'd also bought a bolt of fabric the first Sunday she'd returned to Konoha, using the money from all the D-ranks Jiraiya had forced her to complete and sewn what was, by her standards, a simple but pretty dress over the last two Sundays while helping Naruto with his Academy homework, making sure that it would be ready for the Council meeting on the third Sunday of the month.

The dress was same blue as the face paints, the layers of fabric vaguely petal-like, building on each other and wrapping around the upper body. The hemline reached just below her knees and she'd bought long, tight-fitting leggings to pair them with. The purpose of the layered fabric would be to eventually conceal the seals she planned to stitch into the hidden layers of fabric when she had the time.

It was a style unlike anything in Konoha and she knew it would be eye-catching. She didn't care. She wasn't hiding, not anymore. If she went missing again, she wanted people to notice. She wanted them to ask questions. She would not slip away silently into the shadows, not again. Everybody in Konoha knew she was the one who had begun the public outcry into the Root investigation, everybody knew she had been abducted by Danzo and forced into Root. Just let them try to silence her now.

"You look so pretty," Naruto said, beaming at her. Copying her, Naruto had started painting over his own whiskers, choosing to alternate between bright orange and sunshine yellow, with a bright orange Uzushio spiral on his forehead, though she had made sure that he would tell anyone who asked it was an Uzumaki Clan symbol. She'd also put little braids in his hair at his request, just as she and Kanna had done when he was little. 

People stared at them when they walked through the streets. Of course they stared. The difference was, as they walked through the Yūkaku compared to Konoha proper, not all the stares were negative. In fact, Sansa had been startled but delighted to see the growing trend of the children of the Yūkaku painting their own whisker marks on their cheeks with coloured paints. Naruto said it was Suzuki Tama who'd started it, painting black slashes across her cheeks, and after that it hadn't taken long for other children to pick it up.

"This is our warpaint," Sansa had explained to him the first time she'd ever painted Naruto's face, gently touching his whisker marks, "be proud as we wear it into battle."

Nobody else wore the Uzushio spiral and Sansa suspected that was Tama's influence too– the whiskers were one thing, the Hokage could ignore that, but having a hoard of half-feral children wearing the symbol of another village, even a dead one? That was too close to treason to be safe.

When Sansa and Naruto arrived at the shrine, they weren't the only ones present. Naruto scampered off to say hello to one of the 'pretty neesans', a freshly-folded white origami fox in his hand with its prayer carefully inked inside the crisp folds to hang on the wall, while Sansa bowed her head, letting the divine serenity cradle around her, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

Today, her prayers were centred around Kakashi. It had now been over a week since she had seen him, but it wasn't because he was avoiding her. He was gone– Tenzo too. She'd stretched out her sensing as far as she could, but all that had earned her was a headache, blood leaking from her nose, a panicking Naruto and the certainty that he wasn't in Konoha or any of the villages closest to Konoha. 

He was an active shinobi, so it was only natural that he would be assigned missions, but Sansa couldn't help the tight grip of fear that clenched her heart at the thought. Kakashi had so blatantly defied the Hokage in his defence of her and it was the Hokage who decided which missions Kakashi was sent on. What if he sent Kakashi on a suicide mission? Especially after Kakashi must have gone to confront him about Jiraiya's training... Kakashi did not have the option to say no to the Hokage. Not without it being treason, which would get him killed regardless.

And there was nothing Sansa could do about the situation except pray to Inari-sama to protect him, to keep him safe and whole and to bring him back to her.

She wondered how it was possible to miss someone so much when in truth she had only known them a few short weeks. And yet, Kakashi's chakra had hovered at the edge of her awareness her entire childhood, protecting her and Naruto, and she missed feeling it and the sense of absolute safety and security it brought her. She missed him. Her pack.

Sansa truly wished she'd had the opportunity to say goodbye– because her growing fear was that she would never get the chance again.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE:

It was difficult to command the attention of a hall filled with self-important figures of authority when you were a small child amidst a sea of adults, but Sansa swept into the hall where the Council was gathered as if their attention was her due and they couldn't help but turn to her, the volume in the room lowering as she made her way over to a empty seat, settling herself upon it with all the regal poise as if it were the Iron Throne itself.

There was silence in the hall. Sansa let it sit. To break it first was to be the one to break and neither Sansa Stark or Uzumaki Fuyuko were women inclined to break.

"Why is there a child here?" The Hyūga Clan Head didn't even bother to address her, his voice dismissive as he turned to the Hokage, demanding his answers.

"As a genin, Fuyuko-chan has claimed the responsibility of acting clan-head of the newly recognised Uzumaki Clan until her older brother is of age or officially recognised as an adult by Konoha law," the Hokage said calmly and Sansa didn't let her irritation show at the lack of respect in the Hokage's chosen address for her. It was all part of the game, after all, and to show annoyance at the lack of a respectful title would only paint her as an immature child in the eyes of those around her.

"A child is hardly responsible or knowledgeable enough to oversee the matters of laws and taxation this Council requires of its representatives," an older man sitting by the Hokage, his face lined with age, accused. Sansa almost laughed. They thought she knew nothing of how to run a village as contained as Konoha? The entire Elemental Nations would fit within the sprawling, ancient lands of the North and she had ruled it all. She knew taxation, she knew laws, she knew ruling– and she knew it better than most sitting in this room.

Sansa met the old man's eyes and smiled, ensuring that her sharp teeth were visible. "How strange," she said, tilting her head slightly in mock confusion. "I can't seem to recall any of this well-meaning concern over my age when two four-year-olds were sent to live on their own."

She took a moment to revel in the discomfort of those around her before continuing. "Regardless of that, your protests hold no legal weight, as I'm sure you're no doubt aware. By Konoha's own laws, I am an adult and I was one from the moment the Hokage named me genin. By the legislation written into Konoha's own charters, I have the right to be here, to represent the interests of my clan," she said and she smiled at him, just another in a long line of old men who had tried to take the power that was her birth right from her. "So please, most august body," Sansa made a sweeping gesture with her hand, "let us begin this session."

There was a pause, as if everyone was waiting for someone else to protest, to come up with a reason why she was surely wrong, that she surely could not sit on the Council.

Nobody did.

"Very well," the Hokage said, and the meeting commenced.

The vast majority of the meeting was dry. Unimaginably so. Sansa presumed it was intentional, intended to dissuade her from returning, judging by the discontent on many faces around her. She kept her own face trained in what Arya had called her 'court mask', an expression of carefully trained polite interest without seeming either condescending, grovelling or over-eager. It was a delicate balance, but one Sansa had had decades to perfect.

For most of the session, she was content to remain quiet, instead listening to others speak and taking the time to pick out where the alliances lay, who opposed who, where the more neutral parties sat.

Her attention sharpened when the topic of Root came up. The main interest of the Council, it seemed, was the process of integrating the Root forces into Konoha's main shinobi forces– the investigation itself into Root's existence and its actions was 'classified', of course.

The issue with the integration, Yamanaka Inoichi explained, was that the Root agents were so deeply conditioned that the team he had put together for the purpose of de-conditioning the agents for integration had met little success, even a month later. Only the youngest of the agents showed any signs of true progress. Jiraiya's progress with the seal binding their tongues had been similarly stalled, as it seemed 'incomplete'– Sansa carefully kept her face clear of guilt– so they couldn't even determine if the conditioning was all psychological or if the seal was involved.

"With such a risk, why take the risk of integration at all?" The Hyūga clan head demanded.

"Pah!" The Inuzuka clan head spat scornfully before Inoichi could answer. "Like it's any different from running a mission with one of your branch family– unknown seal, unknown capabilities, all hush hush, could go off like a fucking exploding tag for all we know!"

The Hyūga clan head reared back, a look of outrage on his face. "How dare you compare–" he started to say.

"Enough," the Hokage intervened then, flaring his chakra through the hall, a heavy enough presence that Sansa doubted even a chakra-blind civilian would have been able to miss it. "We decided to integrate the Root agents into our forces and we will continue our efforts in doing so. Jiraiya has remained in the village to work on the seal to ensure that there will be no issues for those who will eventually work alongside the agents. Whatever else they have been forced to do, under... corrupt leadership, the Root agents are and always have been loyal shinobi of Konoha."

Corrupt leadership. That was certainly one way of dressing up Danzo's actions.

With that, the meeting moved on from the Root integration efforts and Sansa waited until it was drawing to its conclusion, where the members of the Council had their turn to speak if any of them had an issue they wanted to be heard, to stand up.

"Yes, Fuyuko-chan?" The Hokage asked, his face soft, his smile kindly and his eyes hard as stone, chakra threaded through with agitation and annoyance.

Sansa looked back at him, donning a grave expression on her face.

"I have an issue I would like to raise," she said. "I wish to bring up the matter of Root again. Not the investigation, which I understand is ongoing, or the reintegration of the agents, as we covered that earlier, but I wish to discuss the steps we must take to ensure such a horror will never occur again. I don't speak as a shinobi now, but as the civilian orphan I was when I myself was taken by Danzo to be inducted into Root against my will."

There was a stirring around her, murmurs and whispers from the various clan heads; the hissing sounded like a hive of bees, one that she'd just kicked.

The Hokage looked like he'd just sucked lemon. When he didn't invite her to continue, Sansa decided to invite herself. She was a Queen; she didn't need him to give her permission to speak.

"There exists a balance of power between the shinobi and civilians of Konoha," she said, "and the Elder Shimura's actions has upset that balance most grievously. There must be a means of reassurance that such an upset cannot repeat itself, of powerful shinobi taking advantage of the civilian population."

"And do you have any thoughts on how this could be accomplished?" asked one of the clan heads she didn't recognise, the man's tone barely skating the edges of civility in his sheer condescension. Sansa smiled serenely at him.

"Why, of course," she said. "What use is there in raising a problem without a solution? I believe we need to increase civilian representation on bodies of authority such as this Council. Increasing civilian representation will provide a wider platform through which their concerns and needs be given voice, as well as serve to reduce the segregation that exists between shinobi and civilians, allowing each population a greater awareness of what is occurring within the community of the other.

"Elder Shimura took advantage of the divide that exists within Konoha and because of it, his treasonous actions went unnoticed for decades in which he stole civilian and clan children alike. If shinobi and civilians were united, if the shinobi were aware of the disappearance of exceptional children in the orphanages and of suspicious disappearances of civilian children from their loving homes, and if civilians had heard of missions gone wrong where young shinobi with rare bloodlines had gone missing in action, or the young clan children who had gone missing after the Kyuubi attack, well– perhaps the pattern would have become clearer and Elder Shimura would have been caught earlier. We will never know."

"I agree," one of the two lone civilian representatives on the Council spoke up. The woman appeared lovely and delicate in her many-layered kimono with its intricate embroidery and her amber-orange hair piled atop her head, held in place by jewelled pins, but her eyes, green as seaglass, were sharp and her face was hard. She met the Hokage's eyes, unflinching and straight-backed, her mouth set in a thin line. "We are owed restitution for the crimes Elder Shimura committed against us, for our children who were stolen and abused and murdered.

"Since Elder Shimura's crimes have gone public, many families have come forward whose children have gone missing, most of them with either shinobi heritage or who were the result of a liaison with a shinobi, as well as relatives of entire families who were murdered, only for no bodies of children to have been recovered at the scene– or families whose children were lost in the aftermath of the Kyuubi attack, their bodies never found. These crimes have been ongoing for decades and they were committed in Konoha, by a shinobi of Konoha– an Elder who presided on this very Council. An Elder who was counted as a very close friend of yours, Hokage-sama."

"Watch your tongue, Haruno-san!" Snapped an older woman who stood near to the older man who spoke earlier and the Hokage.

Haruno looked coldly back at the woman. "It is you who should watch yours, Elder Utatane. Everybody in this room knows how close you were to Elder Shimura. I'm certain I am not alone in my doubts as to your innocence in his crimes," she said and Utatane went pale with fury as Haruno turned back to the Hokage. "Uzumaki-sama is correct," she said, and Sansa very carefully did not react to being addressed by the correct title as acting clan head to the Uzumaki Clan for the first time since she'd stepped foot in the hall. "Civilians are under-represented on bodies of power in Konoha," Haruno continued, "and that is no longer acceptable, not when the shinobi of Konoha have proved they cannot protect us within the walls of our own village. Not when Konoha's governing body of shinobi have proved they cannot protect us even from themselves."

The silence that followed Haruno's declaration was heavy. Her accusations were not without merit and everyone was aware of it.

"What do you suggest, then, Haruno-san?" Yamanaka Inoichi, the man working closely with the Root agents in the attempts to de-condition them, asked.

"All the clans have representation on this council," Haruno said coldly. "As do the Hokage's genin team, though the reason why escapes me. I am putting forth that for each shinobi on the Council, there be a civilian Council-member to match."

"That is ridiculous!" Protested one of the Clan Heads, another who Sansa could not name this time but would be able to by the next meeting.

"How so?" Haruno asked, arching a perfect eyebrow. "We are just as vital for the continued survival of Konoha as you. Without us, there would be no Konoha. And we are not without other options. We joined Konoha because it promised us safety for our families and demand for our businesses. If we are not guaranteed safety, then we can and we will leave and ply our trades elsewhere. We may not be shinobi, but that does not mean we are powerless."

As the Clan Heads and the Hokage wavered under Haruno's threat, Sansa couldn't help her thrill of delight. She could not have hoped for a better outcome to her gambit and as she met Haruno's eyes and the other woman dipped her chin slightly, she knew she had gained a tentative ally amongst the Council. Only time would tell if that alliance would lead to anything greater.

Sansa–

Paused.

Where had that thought come from?

She had had the Uzumaki declared a Clan for the sake of eventually legally seceding from Konoha. She had very little interest in Konoha's internal politics, other than seeing to the safety of her loved ones. What had driven her to start making waves, and at her first Council meeting too?

You are the heiress to my empire. You are the heiress to my ideals. You are the heiress to my Will of Fire.

It took everything Sansa had not to flinch, to keep from paling as her entire body felt as if it had been plunged into ice. She had barely given the Kotoamatsukami any recent thought, but its poison had been lingering, affectingher without her even realising. She had never had any interest in Konoha's politics– but Danzo had.

Sansa kept her breathing even, despite having lost the feeling in the tips of her fingers. Itachi had yet to get back to her, but she had to trust in him. To trust that he would find a way to help her. He had warned that he was involved in a dangerous mission, trying to infiltrate a dangerous organisation with an unsettling interest in the Jinchūriki. As a Jinchūriki herself, Sansa had a vested interest in his success and had agreed that he should commit to the successful infiltration first, to gaining their trust before seeking her out in order to avoid any suspicion falling upon him. She regretted that now. She had thought that her knowledge of being under Kotoamatsukami's influence would somehow mitigate its effects on her.

She had been wrong. Dangerously wrong. Arrogantly so.

Forgive me, she prayed, begged, to all those who trusted and relied on her.

But in her first Council meeting was not the time to have a breakdown, so Sansa focused her attention back outward, to where Haruno was easily holding her own against multiple Clan Heads. The Hokage simply looked exhausted as he watched everything devolve before him. Seeming to sense her eyes on him, he glanced over and something flickered cross his expression she couldn't quite read before he dipped his head in slight acknowledgement of a move well-played.

Gracious in her victory, Sansa dipped her head in return.

At least if she had to become involved in Konoha's politics, she had ensured she was a player in her own right, not a piece to be moved by others.

She was nobody's pawn and she would never be a pawn again.

~

"Oh my," Inoichi had murmured when Uzumaki Fuyuko walked in to the hall where the Council met and Shikaku had not been able to help but nod his agreement.

He'd had a vague idea of what Uzumaki Fuyuko looked like before that day, had heard that she had Kushina's colouring and remembered the jewel-bright red hair of the Uzumaki, but that was nothing compared to seeing her in person. Oh, she was a pretty thing, all porcelain fair, with deep ocean-blue eyes and brilliant red hair, but it was more than that.

It was the bright, bold streaks of paint she'd lined over her cheeks, daring people to remember the Sacrifice she carried within her and tremble in fear. It was the Uzushio spiral she'd streaked over her forehead where a hitai-ate traditionally sat in the colour of fresh-spilled blood, forcing all of Konoha to look upon it and flinch away in shame. It was the effortless mantle of authority she wore as she glided across the room with the sort of elegant poise the Fire Daimyō's own wife would be jealous of, commanding the attention and respect of the hall as if it was her birth-given right.

She acted as if she'd been raised in the Shogun's* own court, instead of an overcrowded orphanage, the streets of the Yūkaku and the deepest, darkest depths of Konoha's underground special forces, Root.

Except, he had read the classified reports that Tenzo, Kakashi and Jiraiya had given. He was one of about three people who had. Fuyuko had spoken about having 'tea' with Danzo, while repeatedly discussing events she should have had no knowledge of– talking freely of highly classified events she should have had no knowledge of. Something no Root agent should be capable of.

'She has no seal,' Tenzo had concluded in his report.

'He was grooming her,' Jiraiya had written in his.

Grooming her for what, the question had been. Seeing her now, Shikaku didn't have a doubt left in his mind.

Danzo had been grooming her to be his successor. And why would he silence his successor?

Shikaku suspected that the Hokage could see it too– he had known his old friend best, after all. Sarutobi and Danzo were two sides of the same coin; they had different faces, but they were melded from the same metal. He could see it and he was afraid of her potential, of what she could become. Perhaps he was right to be afraid. Fuyuko had reason to be angry, to see Konoha razed to ashes as Uzushio had been left as little more than rubble. But Shikaku saw what Danzo must have, when he was given a Jinchūriki to turn into a human weapon.

Potential. Sheer potential for so much more.

His opinion only grew further as Fuyuko finally made her move after staying silent, her expression calm yet attentive enough that none could possibly accuse her of not paying attention to what was going on.

She brought up Root, of course. But not in a way he could have predicted. Not in a way he thought anyone could have predicted. And in one simple move, she had completely destabilised the entire balance of power within the Council.

It was ingenious in its simplicity. Having just two civilians on the Council had always made them largely a non-entity when it came to important matters regarding the governing of the village. They were there to be courted for votes, not to make votes themselves. But if there were enough civilians on the Council, they would be able to propose their own legislation, make their own votes, and potentially have their own laws passed.

Konoha would always be ruled first and foremost by the Hokage, a shinobi that was selected by the previous Hokage, usually because they were the most powerful shinobi in the village. The Fire Daimyō had to approve the previous Hokage's choice, of course, but the Fire Daimyō had never had an issue with a selection before. That didn't mean the Council didn't have an important role in the running of the village, however, and if the civilians were given a larger say on the Council... Konoha was primarily a shinobi village and despite calls for demilitarisation in the past, it had remained primarily a shinobi village, prioritising its resources on its shinobi forces and that was in no small part because of decisions made by the Council.

Shikaku wondered if Fuyuko even realised the potential extent of her proposal. Haruno Ayaka, the sister of the Head of the Konoha Branch of the Haruno Merchant Clan certainly did, if the way she'd gone after it like a shark who had scented blood in the water was any indication. Because Fuyuko and Ayaka were right– the civilians of Konoha were owed restitution and a means of assurance that something like Root wasn't about to happen again. And now that Fuyuko had given Ayaka the idea of more civilian representatives on the Council, she wasn't going to let go of it– neither was the Banking Guild representative next to Ayaka; no matter how quiet Kichirō Masahiro was being, there was a familiar gleam in the representative of the Banking Guild's eyes that spoke of trouble anyone who'd ever made an error when filing their Clan's yearly taxes would recognise.

"I'm going to invite Uzumaki-chan over to dinner," he mused out loud to Inoichi and Chōza as he watched the other Clan Heads panic.

"Of course you are," Chōza said, amused.

"Don't forget to invite her brother," Inoichi said idly, his eyes trained on the chaos around them. "It'll put her more at ease."

"I'm not inviting her over to interrogate her," Shikaku protested.

"No, you're inviting her over because she's made you curious and you want to pick her apart, to see how she works," Inoichi said, not even bothering to look over at him. "And normally I'd tell you off for doing that to a child, but in this case I'm just going to warn you."

"Warn me?" Shikaku asked and Inoichi finally deigned to face him, smirking slightly.

"Yes, warn you that if you pick her apart, she's just going to do the same to you– don't forget, I've read the same reports you have."

In other words, Inoichi was aware of just the sort of tutelage Fuyuko had had.

"You agree though, don't you," he said, looking back over at her, to where she sat on her seat, where she had been sitting for the last almost four hours now, having barely shifted, straight-backed and regal, head held high, like she was sitting on a throne. "She's something special."

"With her parents, how could she not be?" Inoichi said, so softly that Shikaku and Chōza had to strain to hear him. "But yes, I agree. I think she is special. And if she survives the Chūnin Exams, I believe she will become legendary."

~

Gathered in his office, seated across from two other members of his old genin team, their faces just as lined with age as his own, Hiruzen felt impossibly weary.

Koharu and Homura were outraged, he could see it in their expressions, in how they held themselves. It had been an unpleasant month for them; they no longer enjoyed the benefits they once did as their power and influence in the village had been severely limited in the wake of Danzo's exposure, the suspicion that Haruno Ayaka had so bluntly voiced in the Council meeting today now an unspoken ghost that haunted their footsteps. Hiruzen wondered how long it would be until one of the Council members petitioned for them to be removed from the Council entirely.

He wondered if Fuyuko would be the one to do it. She had already destabilised an institution as old as the village itself, in her very first Council meeting. Oh, it had been raised before, the idea of more civilians being on the Council, but the shinobi had always been able to suppress such notions. In the wake of Root's exposure and the official version of the Uchiha massacre, however, the civilians had a weight behind them they'd lacked before, a cause for their lack of faith in the shinobi governance. There would be no suppressing such a petition this time. No bribery, no threats, no outright denial would stop what Fuyuko had started.

He wondered if she realised what she had done; he thought she did, or that she at least had an idea. Fuyuko had never concealed the fact she thought little of shinobi. That she would use what influence she had for the sake of Konoha's civilians should not have surprised him. He should at least be grateful there was one part of Konoha's population she did care for, that she would defend, when she looked towards the shinobi forces and leadership with so much scorn.

The weight of the mistakes he had made with Minato's children weighed heavily on his shoulders. Leaving them to be raised in the orphanage, among civilians, had been a mistake– they should have been raised by a shinobi family from the beginning, acclimatised to the lifestyle from birth.

At least Naruto had embraced being a shinobi. After the first disastrous few years at the Academy, where he'd been systematically sabotaged by his teachers, he was finally starting to make friends and learn. Iruka had reported that Naruto was a good student when he set his mind to it, that he learned better by doing, and if a practical demonstration for a skill was shown then Naruto was quick to master it. It made Hiruzen proud to read those progress reports, so different from the sick feeling he'd gained reading the progress reports Danzo had sent him of Fuyuko's training.

Progress reports he now suspected were a lie.

"She is out of control," Koharu said tightly, as if reading his mind. "Danzo was supposed to have trained her." 

"He did," Hiruzen said quietly. "We just never thought to ask what he was training her for."

"What he was training her for?" Homura asked incredulously. "She's a Jinchūriki! A weapon!"

"She's also a daughter of a Hokage and a direct descendant of the last Uzukage of Uzushio," Hiruzen said and he could see the dawning realisation on the faces of his old friends. "Her potential for leadership is... quite astonishing. You both saw her today– who did she remind you of?"

Koharu and Homura looked at each other with troubled eyes. "Minato," Koharu finally murmured. "Minato– and Danzo."

"Exactly," Hiruzen said grimly.

"Then what do we do?" Homura demanded. "She's dangerous– she's already destabilising the government we've spent decades building up!"

"We can't make her disappear," Koharu pointed out. "She's an acting clan head– and the person publicly known for exposing Root. People will ask questions if she disappears, questions that can't be suppressed."

"I know," Hiruzen said with a heavy regret. "That's why I'm sending her to Kiri for the Chūnin Exams."

Koharu and Homura turned to look at him, astonishment in their eyes. "Hiruzen," Koharu said, "I'm– surprised."

"That I would be so ruthless?" he asked quietly. "I love this village, Koharu. I will always place Konoha first– before everything and everyone." And he had– his family, his morals; everything of value to him, he'd always put Konoha first, before it all.

"You think they will kill her," Homura said. "It will cost us a Jinchūriki."

"We'll still have the brother," Koharu dismissed, "and he can be controlled." 

"She may survive," Hiruzen warned. "I'm sending her with a team slated as career genin, but Danzo did train her– and she is smart. My hope is, however, that if she does survive, the Chūnin Exams will help open her eyes to both the benefits of her training as a shinobi and the peace and strength of Konoha, compared to a village such as Kiri."

"So we win either way," Koharu summarised. "And when her team is killed off by the other village genin, she is offered a common enemy of Konoha." She looked approvingly at him. "You thought this through." Hiruzen smiled faintly.

"I am the Hokage," he said and both his old teammates smiled back at him, the expressions softening the lines on their faces; for a brief moment, they looked younger and Hiruzen could almost imagine they were a team again, years before he'd ever had the responsibility of an entire village placed on his shoulders; the weight of it unimaginable.

But, as he'd just said, he was the Hokage and he did bear that weight; for the good of the village, he had to make the hard choices, the monstrous choices, such as sending a precocious seven-year-old to her probable violent death.

Forgive me, Minato, Kushina; he thought. But he would not change his mind.

For the good of Konoha.

*The Shogun is the title of the military dictator of Japan during a period of their history. Originally appointed by the emperor, the shogun was in charge of the armed forces and basically took over. Daimyōs were the feudal lords in shogunal Japan– they were large landowners and vassals of the shogun. In the Elemental Nations, I kind of picture it that the Shogun has a city in the Land of Iron that he rules the Elemental Nations from with his samurai and the daimyō are all his vassals.

A/N: Just as something to note, Haruno Ayaka is not Sakura's mother (that will be Haruno Mebuki). She's actually Haruno Kizashi's (Sakura's dad's) OC sister. I subscribe to the fanon that the Haruno family are Merchants and relatively important ones at that, considering Sakura is in a class full of Clan Heirs.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO:

The Council meeting had dragged on for hours and nobody was happy when it finished. That was fine. Meetings where nobody left happy were usually the meetings where the most had been accomplished, as it usually meant that there had been the most compromise from all parties involved.

Sansa was looking forward to getting back home to Naruto; she felt guilty about leaving alone for so long, considering she had full days of training for the next six days, however as she was exiting the Hokage Tower, someone stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"Ah, just the person I was hoping to bump into," the man said with a lazy smile, as if their meeting had been entirely accidental when they both knew that to be far from the truth. Sansa swept her eyes up over him– he had to be the Nara clan head, he looked far too much like Tama to be anything else.  "I was wondering," the Nara said, his words drawn out, as if speaking took too much effort, "if you happened to play shōgi?"

Sansa found her interest piqued despite the almost insultingly heavy-handedness of the Nara's maneuvering, because that sounded like the equivalent to a Westerosi invitation to a private solar to share a glass of Arbor's finest– and everyone knew that was how true relationships were formed; where secrets were whispered, the little games were played and the favours exchanged that shaped the true unofficial alliances, regardless of official treaties or political stances.

And Sansa did know how to play shōgi. It had been part of her training under Kaeru in order to help her blend seamlessly into the world of nobles, entertainers, and courtesans. She was a fair hand at it too, picking it up with an ease that had made Danzo smile; shōgi shared several basic principles with cyvasse, after all, and Sansa had always been a very adept student at strategy games, going on to later flourish under Petyr's tutelage.

"I've enjoyed a game or two," she demurred to the Nara clan head, knowing she wasn't fooling the man with her act even slightly.

"I'm always looking for fresh minds to challenge," he smiled down at her. "Would you care for a game, Uzumaki-hime?"

Sansa... paused.

Princess. He'd called her princess. That was not the title she'd expected to hear, as acting clan head. And yet, as the firstborn daughter of Uzumaki Kushina and descendant of Uzumaki Mito, it was the title she was owed.

For the first time since she'd entered the Council meeting, Sansa found herself on the back foot, uncertain how to react. It almost felt akin to when she was a prisoner in the Red Keep and the occasional servant would address her as 'Princess Sansa' in low, reverent whispers, even as Joffrey viciously denied that Robb was a King of anything.

Rightful titles could be dangerous when spoken in the wrong places or overheard by the wrong ears.

But rightful titles were powerful things and Sansa donned hers now like the bloodied crown of drowned bones and rubble she owned by rights, raising her chin to smile at the Nara.

"I would be honoured, Nara-sama," she said, and there was a flare of approval in the man's dark, intelligent eyes.

"Why don't you and your brother come over for dinner tonight," he said, "we could play a game together afterwards."

"I don't think your wife would appreciate such late notice," Sansa cautioned, hesitant to accept the invitation; sharing a meal with a noble family where she had only mere hours to prepare her brother, who had never so much as set foot in a clan compound before let alone learned the etiquette required of formal dining, was not the sort of social faux pas she was eager to make. She wanted Naruto to make the sort of impression he'd be able to look back on later, when he was older, and be proud.

"Don't worry, it won't be anything formal," the Nara said dismissively, easing her fears somewhat. "Just something casual between friends," he added, with another lazy smile.

"I didn't realise we were friends, Nara-sama," Sansa said, amused by his forwardness despite herself.

"I'd like to think we could be," the Nara said. "I think we'd make good friends."

Sansa looked at him thoughtfully, considering his words, weighing the possible motives behind the invitation. "Dinner, then," she decided, finally. "At what time will we be expected, Nara-sama?"

"Come around at seven," the Nara said, sounding satisfied. "And call me Shikaku– calling me 'Nara' at dinner tonight will only get confusing fast."

"Hm," Sansa said, not willing to commit to that level of informality yet. "We will see you then."

As she'd expected, Naruto was ecstatic at the invitation, which seemed to have more than made up for her absence for the majority of the day. Naruto was friendly with Nara Shikamaru at the Academy, though he seemed to like Shikamaru's friend Akimichi Chōji more, and he practically skipped along as Sansa led them to the Nara compound come seven in the evening, remembering its location from when she used to warg into small animals to explore the village.

Sansa wore the same dress to dinner that she'd worn to the Council meeting, though she had changed her hair to a more elaborate, upswept style traditional for the Elemental Nations, fixing the bun in place with several of the combs she'd had made from the elk antlers. Meanwhile, at her instruction Naruto had asked around with his 'pretty neesans' until he found one with a son close enough in size to him who hadn't minded lending him a semi-formal yukata for the evening. Sansa thought he looked quite handsome in the light brown yukata with its decoration of cascading raindrops in shades of yellow, orange and even a shimmering gold meant to inspire thoughts of summer rain.

Sansa honestly wasn't sure what to think of Naruto's connections with the seedier underbelly of Konoha's Yūkaku. She was well aware that while she was away training with Jiraiya, Naruto spent the time he wasn't in the Academy out on the streets, dodging his ANBU watchers and running wild with future yakuza and whores. But were shinobi truly any better? What were they, but government-sanctioned murderers and thieves and prostitutes, their hands just as filthy as any of Naruto's friends, if not even more so underneath their so-called civil veneer of nobility and patriotism? Besides, the skills Naruto was learning would only serve to aid him in the long run, to keep him alive, and that was all Sansa truly cared about.

There were two guards standing at the entrance to the Nara compound when they arrived, but they let the pair of them through without incident, one leading them through the vast compound to the main house where Shikaku and a brown-haired woman with dark eyes greeted them at the door.

Sansa and Naruto immediately bowed, the other couple bowing in return. "Thank you for welcoming us to your home," Sansa said formally.

"You are very welcome here," the woman said warmly. "Please, come in, both of you."

The Nara main house had a spacious genkan* where she and Naruto could exchange their shoes for guest slippers before stepping into the main house itself where Sansa presented the couple the host-gift, careful to use both hands when presenting it; gift giving etiquette in this culture was vastly different from Westeros. It followed rigid rules for giving and receiving and it seemed gifts were offered for everything from host-gifts, to tokens of respect, to signs of continuing association.

As was custom, the Naras would not open the gift until later, as it was considered rude to open the gift in front of her and Naruto, but Sansa hoped they liked the pair of embroidered handkerchiefs, one with a pattern of winter roses and one with a pattern of elk antlers around the hem– small gifts such as fruits, chocolates, handkerchiefs and alcohol were considered to be appropriate for when visiting someone's house and she had enough handkerchiefs around the house to spare from practicing her embroidery.

As she and Naruto were led into the house, Sansa was keenly aware of Shikaku's gaze fixed on her. His wife it seemed noticed too, because she sent her husband a scolding look. "Wait until we've finished dinner, at least, before you drag her over to the shōgi board!" she reprimanded him, before sending Sansa an apologetic look. "I apologise for his manners," she said warmly, "my name is Nara Yoshino; your dress is simply beautiful, I've never seen one quite like it before!"

"My name is Uzumaki Fuyuko, this is my brother, Naruto," Sansa introduced them, as Naruto was clinging to her, seeming to have been struck shy by their surroundings, though he perked up when they entered the dining room and he spotted the boy who must be Shikamaru slouched over in one of the seats. Sansa didn't blame Naruto for being uncomfortable– she doubted he'd ever been surrounded by such blatant wealth in his life, growing up as they had among the forgotten and cast aside of Konoha's society. "And thank you– I made the dress myself."

"You did?" Yoshina sounded surprised– and impressed.

"I used to do all the sewing at the orphanage, in return for an allowance," Sansa explained with a pretty smile for her hostress, "I found I enjoyed it so much I began to be create my own designs."

"Well your work is simply beautiful," Yoshino said. "I wouldn't have thought it home-made at all!" The woman then turned to her son. "Shikamaru!" she scolded, "at least say hello to our guests!" She turned back to Sansa, an exasperated look on her face. "I apologise– he's learned his manners from his father," she said, and Sansa couldn't help but smile at the woman's seemingly-effortless charm; she could see why Yoshino was the wife of the clan head.

Sansa couldn't remember the last time she'd sat down and had servants bring out her dinner. It felt like a lifetime ago. In a way, she supposed it had been. Even if it was a bit of a social misstep, she couldn't help but feel proud of the way Naruto thanked the young woman who served him his food and he was so careful as he ate, using all the manners she'd drilled into him earlier that evening, peeking over at her occasionally with those big, blue eyes of his to check he was doing the right thing. Sansa's heart felt fit to burst with warmth each time. Her precious brother, her darling boy, her little prince.

Yoshino kept the conversation light over dinner and Sansa followed her lead. Oh, she'd had perfectly delightful dinners in the past where light, honeyed tones exchanged hidden cruelties, where each seemingly careless choice of word had in truth been selected with utmost calculation for its double meaning, but this dinner was a softer, tamer thing. There would be time for such games later. For now, they spoke of Sansa's sewing, of Yoshino's new favourite café, and of the boys' mischief-making at the Academy; apparently Shikamaru had a habit of sleeping through his classes, while Naruto had started trying to prank one of the teachers. Naruto defended this by informing them 'Mizuki-sensei' was 'stinky', which made the adults laugh and Sansa pretend to– she knew exactly what Naruto meant by 'stinky'; hatred and fear had very sour, pungent scents.

As they laughed at him, Naruto pouted and declared he couldn't wait until he had graduated and was a proper ninja who went on proper missions. Very "kindly" and with no small amount of wicked amusement, Sansa decided to share the reality of D-ranks to him and she, Shikaku and Yoshino spent a good fifteen minutes trying to recall the worst D-rank they'd ever heard of, much to Naruto and Shikamaru's growing horror. Shikamaru's plaintive, "is it too late to quit?" had been met with much amusement by his parents, but for once Naruto had looked as if he wholeheartedly agreed with forgetting ever becoming a shinobi, instead turning full-time to his life of crime.

How perfectly wretched was it that she would honestly prefer that life for him?

Sansa had barely swallowed the last mouthful of her dinner, the rich fare sitting ill in a stomach unused to such a feast, when Shikaku stood and looked as if he was ready to drag her from the table, even if she protested.

"Honestly!" Yoshino sighed, looking exasperated with her husband. "Were you raised amongst wild animals? The deer have better manners then you, Shikaku!"

Despite the fact that playing shōgi was the main purpose for her visit, Sansa still hesitated, turning to Naruto, looking for a sign that he would be okay with her leaving him alone with these new people. She could see the anxiety on his face, the uncertainty, but Shikamaru spoke up before she could gently refuse Shikaku's "invitation" to a game.

"Hey Naruto," the boy said, "want to learn how to play shōgi?"

Naruto beamed. "Sure!" He agreed, his shoulders relaxing as the tension eased out of them, and Sansa felt comfortable enough now to allow herself to be chivvied along from the dining room to another room, this one dedicated entirely it seemed to shōgi, with several boards placed around the room.

The board Shikaku led her to was heavy and expensive looking. "Black or white?" she asked him and Shikaku's eyes were sharp as he looked down at her.

"You can choose," he offered, as if he was being magnanimous and it wasn't the test she knew it to be. Sansa hummed lightly, turning from him to look back to the board.

Defence was an important strategy in a game of shōgi and that had appealed to her from the first she'd learned of the game. It was important to shore up your defence before making the initial attack, and that reflected how Sansa had always acted in life; before she had ever made a direct move against Daenerys, she had gathered allies in all of the Seven Kingdoms, ensuring she had her pieces ready to defend her and her people, and then, and only then, she had with one quick, decisive offense ended the Mad Queen's reign, once and for all.

Ultimately, defending her people, her loved ones, had always mattered more to Sansa then attacking, then conquering, and so she gracefully lowered herself on the side of 'black' and looked up to meet Shikaku's piercing eyes with a sharp smile.

"I believe white moves first," she said.

Shikaku smiled back, just as sharp.

Within moments of the game, Sansa knew that Shikaku was out of her league. Perhaps in a few years when she had more experience at the game, she might have a chance against him, but she already knew she would lose this one– not that that meant she would go down easy. It would be a thrilling battle, a game of intellect and strategy and scheming. Sansa found herself enthralled, losing track of time entirely as she focused on the gameplay before her. It was like matching wits and cunning with Petyr and it exhilarated her.

Even when she had to admit defeat, Shikaku having finally checked her king in a way she could not escape, Sansa found she could not stop herself from smiling. Across from her, Shikaku was smiling too.

"That was an excellent game," he said.

"It was," Sansa admitted. "I enjoyed myself."

And that was the honest truth; not the courtesies she was so-often forced to twitter, like the little bird Sandor had accused her of being.

"We should play again," Shikaku said and Sansa didn't think she could have stopped herself from agreeing, even if she'd wanted to.

Perhaps she'd be calling Shikaku a friend, after all.

And friends asked friends favours.

"Shikaku-san," she said, a pretty smile on her face. "I understand that you and Yamanaka-sama are close."

Shikaku didn't even look surprised as she asked her favour. Instead, he just nodded. "I'll see what I can do," he said.

~

After her late night on Sunday playing shōgi against Shikaku, it was even more of an ordeal than usual to get up early for training come Monday, though Sansa faced the morning with the stubbornness and pride of an Uzumaki and a Stark as Jiraiya had her out of bed at dawn once more. Their training was interrupted mid-way through her usual warm-up run, however, by an unexpected visitor.

"Inoichi?" Jiraiya asked with a frown. "What are you doing here?"

"I believe Uzumaki-chan had a request for me," Inoichi said, causing Jiraiya to look over at Sansa in confusion.

"I want to speak with two of the Root agents– Koi and Kaeru," Sansa admitted and Jiraiya immediately scowled, turning back to Inoichi.

"And you agreed?" he demanded. Inoichi looked calmly back at him.

"I decided it would be harming no one to let her," he said and Jiraiya's scowl darkened.

"Fine," he said. "But I'm coming with her."

Sansa was surprised by the relief that washed over her at the sight of Koi and Kaeru. Both were pale as always from lack of sunlight, but they looked as if they had been taken care of; they were well fed, with clothes that fit them and had no visible or obvious injuries. Low standards, admittedly, but standards nevertheless.

Sansa went to Koi first, unable to help herself; he looked so young without his mask, his eyes so large and his face so fragile. There was a touch of Uchiha about his features, with his dark, almost feathery hair and delicate bone structure. Sansa suspected he was a bastard child of the Clan, or perhaps the child of a bastard, taken from the Yūkaku. There had been very little information in the recovered Root file, Inoichi had told her; nothing about where he'd come from, and no surname, only a first name– Sai.

Sansa gently grasped both his small hands in her own. Koi– Sai seemed shy at her touch, uncertain. They'd never been as tactile as she and Shin had been and her heart ached for him.

"Are they treating you well?" she asked him softly.

"I am in adequate physical condition," Sai said, shifting in place slightly then immediately stiffening, brief panic flaring in his eyes. She squeezed his hands gently, bringing his attention back to her rather than letting him dwell on what their trainers would have seen as a punishable slip in his comportment. "I am not at appropriate condition for missions, however, as they have instructed us not to train," he added, and she could hear the panic in his voice now.

"That's fine," Sansa said soothingly, "that's fine, darling. You don't have to be. There won't be any missions, not for a while."

Sai blinked at her, bewilderment flickering over his face. "No missions?" he asked, so confused that even his conditioning couldn't stop the question from escaping.

"No missions," Sansa confirmed. "Instead, you'll be working with Yamanaka-sama and his team. I want you to listen to them, okay?" She said, reaching, as she did, for the chakra thread that connected them and feeding enough chakra through it to make it an order. "I want you to listen to them, to try and understand what they're telling you. I want you to let them help you, however they can," she said, making it an order; he was hers to order now, after all. Danzo had given her Root, had given her control, and through it she could at least fulfil this part of Shin's dream for Sai: You'll keep Koi safe for me, you'll keep him alive. You'll free him, you'll introduce him to your Naruto and you'll teach him how to live. Promise me, Fuyuko!

Sai slowly nodded and Sansa smiled softly at him, kissing his forehead. "Shin would be so proud of you," she murmured and Sai went still.

"...he would?" the little boy whispered, for the first time looking his age as he looked at her with desperate, imploring eyes.

"So, so proud," Sansa assured him, her own voice hitching. "This is all he ever wanted for you– that you could be free."

Sai took a deep breath and turned to Inoichi. "I accept this..." he paused, searching for a new word to replace mission, "task," he eventually decided on, "of working with your team, Yamanaka-sama. For Shin." He added with a determined little nod, looking over at Sansa briefly for reassurance. She nodded at him and Inoichi smiled warmly down at the boy.

"I'm glad to hear it, Sai-kun," he said kindly. "Would you like to go with Izumi-san now?"

Sai hesitated another moment, glancing back at Sansa again. She gave him an encouraging look and he turned back to Inoichi and nodded. Yamanaka Izumi, one of the members of the team Inoichi had introduced as working with Sai, smiled sweetly down at him, holding her hand out to him. Sai eyed her hand like it was a venomous snake but after another encouraging look from Sansa, he tentatively held it and let her lead him from the room.

Now, it was only Sansa, Inoichi, Jiraya and Kaeru in the room.

Kaeru, or Chiaki Junko as her Root file had identified her name to be, was once the child of a civilian couple. She had been unfortunate enough to demonstrate an exceptional intelligence in her early years at her civilian school and subsequently vanished twelve years ago, at age seven, without trace.

Unlike Sai, whose records indicated he'd only been in Root for three years, Kaeru had spent twelve years under Root's conditioning and it showed. She hadn't spoken a word since being escorted from the Root base and even now, she was silent and still, not meeting the eyes of anyone in the room.

Sansa crossed over to her, feeling the master seal on her neck warm as she focused her chakra on it, feeling for the thread that connected her to Kaeru. When she found it, she fed her chakra into the connection, while at the same time leaning in and wrapping her arms around Kaeru in a hug. "I've missed you," she said, even as Kaeru remained a statue, "how are you?" she asked, her fingers gently tapping the command 'status/report' on Kaeru's back.

Kaeru's voice was hoarse from lack of use. "Condition is poor. This one apologises; general upkeep for mission readiness has been prohibited by captors."

Sansa stroked her hair, as if comforting her.

"They're not your captors, Junko-chan," she said softly, "they're shinobi of Konoha. They're your allies."

On Kaeru's back, she pressed a new command; 'mission/infiltrate'.

Kaeru went still, her head tilting slightly. "They are shinobi of Konoha?" she repeated and Sansa could already see how her body language was changing, shifting slightly to a more open posture as she registered Sansa's orders and reacted accordingly; taking on the identity of 'Chiaki Junko' as easily as any of the other identities she'd worn over the past twelve years.

"They serve the Hokage– just as Danzo-sama said; we serve Konoha, we are the Roots that allow the leaves of the tree to flourish," Sansa murmured, "they are the leaves of the tree, Junko-chan– we are all Konoha, we are all allies."

"Allies," Kaeru repeated slowly.

"Allies," Sansa affirmed. Kaeru nodded.

"They ask for information," she said, "information this one cannot tell."

"The seal," Sansa murmured and Kaeru nodded. "Tell them what you can," she instructed, "they will understand what you can't say," here, she shot a look over her shoulder at Jiraiya and Inoichi, flat and stern. They both nodded and she turned back at Kaeru. "Just try your best," she urged. "Keep an open mind. Can you do that? For me?"

"Yes, Megitsune," Kaeru said, obedient as she had always been to Danzo's orders.

Sansa suddenly felt sick.

(You are the heiress to my empire. You are the heiress to my ideals. You are the heiress to my Will of Fire)

What had she just done?

Why had she done it?

Shaken, Sansa wondered if she was truly ruthless enough that she would make the decision to strip Kaeru of the opportunity for de-conditioning without the influence of the Kotoamatsukami? Would she have prioritised getting loyal eyes inside Konoha's forces, over getting a traumatised near-child the help she truly needed, without Danzo's insidious influence creeping through, twisting her thoughts and actions without her even realising?

Sansa dearly hoped not. But as Kaeru was led out by Inoichi, Sansa wished she could call them back. Wished she could take back the 'mission' she had given her. She wished she could tell them all of the hidden master seal on the back of her neck, could tell them so Jiraiya would be able to strip the loyalty seal from all the Root agents. But when she even thought about opening her mouth, her jaw felt as if it had frozen, her tongue turning to lead, and all she could do was watch in silence.

She needed the Kotoamatsukami gone now– she couldn't trust herself, not with any of the Root agents, not with Sai especially, Sai who she had just controlled and given orders without a second thought, thinking that to be freedom. What freedom could be found from control? No true freedom at all.

Sansa turned and left the room, tears in her eyes. Jiraiya let her, even though they were meant to be training now; he probably thought her overcome from memories, not the horror she felt crawling up her throat, the desperate itch under her skin, the frantic feeling of insecurity in not knowing if her thoughts were her own.

But there was nothing she could do about it– nothing but endure. 

~

"You were right," Inoichi said, slipping into his office and sliding the door shut behind him. Shikaku looked up from the mission report he was reading.

"Hm?" he murmured. "I usually am– what was I right about this time?"

"Fuyuko-chan," Inoichi said, as he stepped forwards to settle himself in the seat across from Shikaku. "Watching how she interacted with the Root agents, watching how they responded to her– there's not a doubt in my mind; Danzo intended for her to be his successor."

"What's your read on her?" Shikaku asked, putting down the report in order to turn his full attention to his friend. Inoichi looked thoughtful.

"There are three types of leaders," he said, "there are those who are groomed for leadership, those who are born into leadership, and those who are born to be a leader."

"And Fuyuko-chan?" Shikaku asked. "Which category do you believe she falls under?"

"Which do you think," Inoichi said, giving him a look. "Shikaku, that girl might have been born into her position, and she might have been groomed for it by Danzo, but by the gods– that girl was born to rule."

~

Chapter Text

A/N: Warning - description of Uzushio's Fall in this chapter, definitely disturbing.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE:

Sansa slept poorly, nightmares of burning red and fathomless black skies filling her dreams as Danzo’s words echoed; heiress, heiress, heiress.

The violation of the Kotoamatsukami was horrifying to her; she had been sold, she had been raped, she had been cut open, and yet, for every wretched, wretched act committed upon her, for every violation of her body, she had always had the comfort of knowing that her mind was her own. Oh, she had been tested before; panic, prolonged pain, the twisted machinations of others, they had all tested her, twisted her even, but in the end her mind had still been her mind, her thoughts still her thoughts, and she had prevailed.

Not anymore. Now there was something inside her, something violating the sanctity of her mind, and Sansa wanted to scream. 

If I’m going to die, she had said, had decided, once in Westeros, and once here in Konoha, in Danzo’s office, let it happen while there’s still some of me left.

But how much of her was left now? How much of her mind was hers?

Naruto picked up on her nightmares, waking up to her badly-stifled sobs, alarmed and frightened. He nuzzled her even as he started to cry too, his chakra curling into hers, trying to comfort her however he could, his small arms wrapped tight around her.

In her distress, Sansa had automatically searched for Kakashi’s chakra signature amongst the ANBU who hovered outside the apartment, guarding them, wanting to feel the comfort the protection of his presence brought. But he wasn’t there, he still wasn’t there, and stretching her senses wider, forcing herself to push through the pain to search the chakra in the village for his familiar chakra, only showed he was still missing.

Burying her face in Naruto’s sunshine-bright hair, Sansa tried not to sob harder, even as she clung to her brother with tight, desperate fingers, lost and afraid and wanting nothing more than to split open her own head to claw out the invading presence there. The strength of the urge had her clutch Naruto even tighter, as she was genuinely afraid of the harm she might do herself in her state and Naruto let her, nuzzling her, whining soft and low as tears wet his cheeks.

She wasn’t calm by the time Jiraiya arrived to pick her up for training, dawn painting the sky a soft, rosy pink, but at least she was no longer hovering at the edge of hysteria. Instead, she just felt hollow as she followed him out to the training grounds.

Until now, she and Jiraiya had both kept any conversations between them strictly related to training. While Sansa would usually hate to be the one who broke first, today she couldn't find it in herself to care, she felt too numb.

"When will Kakashi be back?" She asked quietly. Jiraiya didn't even have the grace to look surprised by her question.

"Not for months," the man said, and it felt like a knife to her breast, the horror bleeding through the numbess as she stared up at him, aghast. "But what did you expect?" Jiraiya continued, at least doing her the kindness of not making her beg him for more information. "He committed treason for you. He's lucky to be alive."

Sansa felt herself go ice-cold with fury at the very thought of the Hokage daring to touch Kakashi, any last trace of her earlier numbness erased, and Jiraiya nodded. "Yeah," he said. "That's why he's still alive. Dogs can be useful when they still have leashes."

It had been a long time since Sansa had felt angry enough that Kurama's chakra had risen to the surface unbidden, but it was a fight now to force the wildfire back beneath the surface of her roiling, churning oceans as her fury whipped deceptively tranquil surfaces into raging whirlpools. Jiraiya stayed silent until her chakra was under control again before continuing as if there had been no interruption. She didn't know if that was more or less frustrating– it felt as if he was treating her like a child and she suspected she might be acting like a one, which just made it worse.

"The Hokage sent him away on a long-term mission. Him and the rest of ANBU Team Ro," Jiraiya finally said, when her chakra had settled under her skin. "The deep infiltration, absolutely no-contact type of mission, on the other side of the continent. They won't be back in the village for another six months at the very earliest– and that's being optimistic."

Sansa pushed down the rage that threatened to rear its ugly head, the wolf inside her howling its fury at being torn away from her Pack. Six months. Six months. For three years she had been torn away from all she loved, from the few and far between connections she had in this village she was forced to call home, and now that she was free from Root at last, the Hokage saw fit to tear her pack from her once more?

"It could be worse," Jiraiya told her and Sansa looked back at him, ice in her eyes.

"Oh?" She asked, biting as the North's freezing winds.

"This is actually protecting Kakashi," Jiraiya explained to her, something about his chakra starting to stir uneasily. "If he isn't here, then he can't react until it's over."

"Until what is over?" Sansa asked, a sudden unease creeping over her, like winter's first frost. Jiraiya's smile was grim.

"The Chūnin Exams," he said. "They're being held in Kiri."

And Sansa–

She–

Understood.

"On," she said quietly, the softness of her voice thoroughly underwhelming even as her heart bled terror and her soul screamed rage.

Kiri. The village that had led the charge against Uzushiogakure. The village that had massacred her mother's people, that had dedicated itself to hunting down the survivors, slaughtering them all. And the Hokage intended to send her; an Uzumaki princess and Uzushio seals-mistress in-training, the epitome of all they had hated and feared, into the heart of their domain, to compete in a competition where their own people would be sanctioned to murder her.

No wonder she hadn't had to fend off any assassins in the dark. The Hokage needn't wet his hands with her blood. He simply had to wait for Kiri to tear her apart as they inevitably would.

"You're not going to die," Jiraiya said gruffly, and Sansa looked up to see how his face was set, grim. "I'm not going to let you die. You're going to be the best damn trained shinobi there."

"Even if nobody in the Exams kill me, they're not going to let me leave Kiri alive," Sansa pointed out through numb lips. She wondered how she was managing to be so calm about this. She thought she might be in shock.

She couldn't feel her face.

"You will," Jiraiya insisted, all desperation-fear-resolution. "I know you hate me. I get it. I'd hate me too. But your parents trusted me to keep you alive, and I'm going to fucking keep you alive. No matter what it takes."

Sansa shook her head, looking down at her hands.

They were trembling.

"You can't protect me," she said, the words an old echo, "nobody can protect me."

When was the last time she had been so convinced of her own mortality?

She had been so sure that Joffrey would kill her, those years she'd spent in the Red Keep. And then it had been Ramsey and his knives, which she'd been certain he would one day use to flay the skin from her bones to hang it from the gates of Winterfell. Then the terror of the Long Night and its marching dead, the Dragon Queen and her murderous, monstrous "children", the horrifying might of the Great Other–

Sansa let herself breathe.

With everything she had faced, it had taken a god to kill her, in the end. And whatever else Kiri was, their people were no gods. She was an Uzumaki of Uzushiogakure and she refused to fall for anything less.

~

Sansa went to the shrine after Jiraiya ended their training session– and at least now she knew why he trained her so hard, so mercilessly. She knelt there, on the floor she had once scrubbed until her small hands had been raw with the chemicals, her head bowed. Let me survive, she prayed. I cannot leave Naruto alone. I cannot leave Kurama and their siblings bound as they are. I cannot leave Mito's vow unfulfilled. I cannot abandon my duties to the living. Not yet.

"You always were a dutiful one, Sansa Stark– family, duty, honour."

Sansa's head jerked and she trapped the startled cry that wished to escape between her teeth at the sight of the white fox now sitting before her where she knelt. Wreathed with glowing white flame, there was no mistaking the being before her as anything less than divine and Sansa immediately bowed, pressing her forehead against the floor of the shrine in supplication. Inari-sama flicked at the back of her head with their tail.

"Enough of that, child," they scolded. "You are a Queen, are you not? You do not belong on your knees. Stand up."

Anger and indignation burned through Sansa at the god's words. How was she to know what Inari-sama demanded of their faithful? The gods she knew were mercurial, wild beings; how was she to know if Inari-sama was different?

"There you are," Inari-sama said, sounding far too satisfied as Sansa glared down at them as she pushed her weary self up to her feet. She held her chin high as she stared down the god before her and the fox-god's eyes met hers and burned with bright white lights, like stars, so bright and burning, and she was lost, she was lost amongst the bright-burning-endless-infinity–

Sansa stumbled back, gasping. Inari-sama hadn't moved, but their form filled her vision; a countless number of glittering, burning stars all at once, condensed into the form of a small fox and Sansa couldn't make herself unsee it, even as it made her eyes burn and whiten.

"Do you have faith, oh Queen?" The god asked her, their voice crashing against her like tidal waves in a storm. The force made Sansa sway in place, but she forced herself to stand firm, to hold her ground against the onslaught. Images flashed beneath the back of her eyelids; memories not her own, of Kiri warships rising dark and terrible before her, their shinobi shedding blood on her shores, in her tides, of bones bleached broken and white on an abandoned shore, jewel-bright hair left to turn brittle and faded.

She saw more bones scattered across the Elemental Nations; scorched black, crushed, cast aside and forgotten, all denied their final rest as the survivors were hunted down by those who worked relentlessly to cull all who made it off Uzushio's red-stained beaches with their lives, heartbreak and loss eddying and swelling like the tides through her veins.

She saw her ancestress; the last Uzukage, Uzumaki Kairi, filled with strength and love and fury, war-fan in hand and pale silks and jewel-bright hair whipping around her as she commanded the winds, the waves and the whirlpools to tear the invading fleets apart, letting the hungry maws of Uzushio's oceans swallow them whole, fighting until her last breath for her people, her home, until she bled out amongst the broken, bleeding bodies washed up on sands soaked crimson from carnage.

Sansa gasped, pulling air into uncooperative lungs, her limbs trembling in the aftermath of the onslaught of the heartbreak and grief, the cacophony of dying screams still echoing in her ears.

"I have faith," she choked out, forcing herself to meet the terrifying gaze of the god once more, even at the risk of losing herself, "I have faith. I have faith in my brother–" Naruto, her Naruto, with his smile like summer sunshine, his hair as golden as Uzushio's bright stretching sands, his eyes as blue as her ever-changing seas, his chakra as mighty as her whirlpools– "I have faith that I will make him the Kage of a village he can be proud to rule."

It felt as if the world shuddered around her, as if it became unmade. Sansa had to close her eyes against the unnaturalness of it all, at a sight not meant for mortal eyes, and when she finally opened them again, when the world felt still and silent and whole once more, Inari-sama had vanished– and where they had stood, now rested a folded tessen, the elegant war-fan around a foot in length, and a stunningly beautiful gold kanzashi, the hair-pin styled in a traditional Uzushio spiral embedded with pearls and tapering into two deadly points.

Carefully, Sansa lifted the tessen. It was heavier than she had expected and the reason why became clear as she opened it, revealing the war-fan's iron ribs. But it wasn't the ribs that held Sansa's attention; rather, it was the scene painted across the lacquered surface of the fan.

It was the ocean. Or rather, it was a wild ocean storm; the winds, the waves, the whirlpools raging, the hungry maws of the ocean rising and crashing down into crushing white, foamy spray; and amidst it all, amidst the strength, the fury, Sansa could see seals, could feel them too as she ran her hands reverently over the lacquered surface. The chakra sang to her; bold, strong, solid, fierce, steadfast, unyielding, wild, playful, vicious, brave, soft– and all of it felt like home; like tides and waves, like everlasting depths and peaceful currents, like winds and storms, like hurricanes and tsunamis.

She recognised the tessen, recognised it from the terrifying memories not her own; Uzumaki Kairi had wielded this during Uzushio's Fall.

Sansa didn't hesitate to press a hand against her forearm, a storage seal blazing to life against her forearm. Moments later, the tessen and kanzashi were safely hidden away and she left the shrine, returning to the apartment she shared with Naruto, intent on questioning the person she knew could tell her exactly what those items meant.

Mito did not disappoint.

"I thought them lost," she breathed reverently, as Sansa described them to her ancestress. There were tears welling in Mito's eyes, a rare sight on the proud woman's face. "I thought them taken, desecrated or destroyed as spoils of war."

"What is their importance?" Sansa asked softly. "I can see they are dear to you." And it was clear they were dear to the gods too, for Inari-sama to have brought them to her.

"What have I told you, of Uzushio's gods?" Mito asked her, instead of answering.

"Nothing," Sansa answered and Mito nodded, her gaze far away.

"The gods we worship have never had names," she murmured, "for they are nameless and many, relentless as the tides, merciless as all divinity are. Our gods are the ocean, the winds, the whirlpools; they are the storms, the tsunami, the hurricanes. We respect them and they provide for us; they protected our home and we called upon their strength in battle. But just as easily, they could turn on us, for no mortal can truly own the divine.

"That tessen," Mito said, focusing on Sansa once more, "it is a symbol of our people. It belongs to the one who rules us. It calls upon the strength of the gods, allows the wielder to channel the power of storms and the ocean's might. It is quite something to behold," she said, the faintest hint of a smile brushing across her face. "Each ruler who held the tessen added their own seals to the design, leaving a trace of their chakra imprint behind. It is a history of our people, nearly three hundred years old."

"That's over three times as old as Konoha," Sansa said, startled. Mito smiled, bitter. 

"Uzushio existed long before Konoha, and by rights should have existed long after," she said. "Before Konoha was first established, the ruler of Uzushio did not even have the title 'Uzukage'– that came later. Once, we called our ruler Empress and our lands were not confined to a single island. The Empress ruled over the islands under Uzushio's banner, separately from the Shogun and his Daimyōs– that is why Uzushio never had a Daimyō.

"But a hundred and fifty years ago, the Shogun of the time grew greedy. It resulted in an increase of violence between the noble families, as demand for land and resources amongst them grew under heavier taxation and they hired shinobi clans as mercenaries– the period became known as the Warring States Period. It also resulted in many of the islands previously under the Empress of the time, Uzumaki Nanami-kōgō's, rule to be forcefully subjugated by the Shogun for their resources. Uzushio didn't have the power to defend against the Shogun's forces. He was a military dictator and we were a peaceful island people.

"Nanami-kōgō was given a warning; she could relinquish her title, or Uzushio would be invaded and conquered too. If she gave up her title, we would keep our freedom– and an illusion of independence. So Nanami-kōgō became the last Empress of our people, and later, when Hashirama became the first Hokage, we adopted the title of Uzukage for our leader and my elder sister, Azumi, became our first Uzukage."

Mito then smiled bitterly. "It is almost ironic," she said. "The kanzashi– it was a gift, from the Shogun's father, to Nanami's mother. He was sweet on her. And then his son sought to subjugate and destroy us."

Sansa thought of Robert Baratheon and Joffrey and grimaced. "It's never the fathers who the sons make bleed for the sins paid against them," she said, just as bitter.

"Why did Inari-sama give them to you?" Mito asked; the sense of wonder had faded from her face somewhat and Sansa felt a sudden sinking sensation.

"Oh Mito," she whispered. She knew her ancestress wasn't going to take this well. There was a part of her that didn't want to tell her, not until it was all over. A part of her that thought it better that Mito remained ignorant. But she knew Mito would not thank her for that ignorance and so Sansa steeled herself and looked her ancestress in the eye. "The Chūnin Exams," she said, "they're being held in Kiri."

Mito turned white. "No," she breathed. "No."

"I have to go," Sansa said wretchedly. "I don't have a choice."

"You can't," Mito moaned, swaying in place before falling to her knees, overcome. Sansa rushed forwards, kneeling before Mito, reaching to clasp Mito's hands with her own. "Oh Sansa, you can't," Mito pleaded, "they'll kill you, Sansa, they'll kill you, just as they've killed everyone I love!"

Sansa held Mito as she collapsed forwards, her face falling to Sansa's chest, her body shaking as she wept. Her grief was a terrible thing and Sansa could feel her own tears. She knew how it felt, to have her whole family murdered, to have her home destroyed. She had been fortunate enough to have part of her family restored to her, to be given the chance to rebuild her home. Mito had never been given that chance.

Mito's tears eventually dried as she moved on from her fear and grief– and into rage. "Hiruzen is fortunate I cannot leave here," she said, with such blistering fury Sansa could almost imagine her breathing fire, "I would tear him to pieces! No– I would help you release Kurama from this accursed seal so they could destroy Konoha and then tear him to pieces!"

Kurama, a silent spectator so far, let out an amused sound here. "You never showed such rage when I was your prisoner," they said.

"Needs must," Mito said tightly, "I spent most of my life after agreeing to marry Hashirama for the sake of my village resigned to my situation. If I allowed myself to feel even a moment of rage, I doubt I would have been able to stop myself from murdering Hashirama and taking over Konoha."

"Oh, I wish you'd had less constraint," Sansa said with feeling, "Konoha would be a better place for it."

Mito managed a smile there, before it fell. "Are you planning on taking the tessen and kanzashi?" she asked quietly. "When you go to Kiri," and here, horror washed over her face, as if even speaking the words caused her unimaginable pain, "will you take them, knowing they are such recognised symbols of Uzushio?"

"Kiri tried to destroy Uzushio," Sansa said softly, "I want to prove they tried in vain. They're going to try and kill me anyway."

Mito looked like she almost wanted to argue, but apparently decided that trying to change Sansa's mind would be an exercise in futility. "You will need training in tessenjutsu," she said. "And somehow, I don't believe Jiraiya will allow you to bring a symbol of the Uzukage to Kiri when he sees you with it."

"No, I don't believe he will," Sansa said dryly. "Fortunately," she added thoughtfully, "I have an idea for that."

Mito, even with her eyes wet with tears, managed a smile. "Of course you do," she said. "You would hardly be yourself if you did not."

~

Looking at Uzumaki Fuyuko was like looking at the ghosts of all his mistakes, his failures, his shame, come to life. Jiraiya could hardly bear it most days. To see her, her small form radiating such strength and authority and defiance against all those who would see her fall, who wished for her to fail, it twisted him up inside.

She was special. She was so special. Anyone who looked into her eyes could see it, could see something sharp and old and fierce staring back at them.

Jiraiya remembered when Uzushio fell. He remembered arriving too late, remembered Tsunade’s terrible screams for her lost aunts and uncles and how the oceans had bled red, there had been so much death in Uzushio’s waters; thousands upon thousands slaughtered with no proper way to separate the invading Kiri and Iwa nin from the massacred Uzushio villagers, the bloated bodies in the ocean unrecognisable, the rest a mess of broken, bloody limbs in the streets.

In his memories, the days that followed had blurred into a mess of barely sleeping, barely eating, transporting body after body from where it had fallen or been washed up to be burned in massive pyres. The smell of spilled blood, of rotting flesh, of burning hair; it haunted his nightmares still. There were some memories that just couldn’t be forgotten, no matter how hard he tried.

Fuyuko wasn’t a perfect mirror of her ancestors; the population of Uzushio had been an island people, and it had showed in the healthy flush of their sun-tanned gold and nut-brown skin. Fuyuko was as starkly-white as the bloated corpses he’d once pulled from red-dyed waters.

Winter child, Kushina had named her daughter.

Ghost child, Jiraiya found himself thinking when he watched Fuyuko flow fluid as the seas through her katas, as she seemingly-effortlessly pulled the moisture from the air in her relentless determination to master each new water jutsu he’d taught her, as she wielded a lost art of sealing as natural as breathing; a drowned ghost of Uzushio, come to haunt them all for their failures.

Jiraiya knew why his sensei was sending Fuyuko to Kiri. Sensei could justify it however he liked, give a hundred reasons, a thousand, but in the end it came down to one simple truth– Fuyuko frightened him. This small child, with her old eyes and older anger, this ghost of their failure, she frightened him.

Sensei couldn’t risk killing her outright; Fuyuko had made herself a too public figure for that, a move Jiraiya suspected had been calculated for just that reason– he wouldn’t put it past her. Sending her to Kiri was a risk– while it wasn’t the act of war to send a child Jinchūriki into other villages to compete in a Chūnin Exam that it would be to send an adult Jinchūriki into another village, it still edged at the line of aggression, particularly with a village they were so loosely ‘at peace’ with. But sensei had apparently judged the risk to be worth it.

Jiraiya couldn’t do it though. He couldn’t just stand back and do nothing as the child of the boy who’d been like a son to him was sent off to her death. No matter how unnerving Fuyuko was, in the end she was still a child, Minato’s child. His godchild. Tsunade’s kin. And he would do whatever he could to protect her, no matter how much she hated him for it, training her just as hard as they trained their shinobi in war time, cruel and cutting, no room for kindness as he drove her each day to her limits and then pushed her beyond them, left her bruised and bloodied, but stronger.

Sending Kakashi away had been his idea. Kakashi had been Minato’s last surviving genin, the boy who’d been as good as a son to Minato, just as Minato had been a son to him. Jiraiya knew just how Kakashi would have reacted to Fuyuko being sent to Kiri– he knew, because he’d barely managed to stop himself from reacting with violence. Kakashi would have tried to kill sensei. He might have even succeeded, and either way he’d have been executed for treason and Jiraiya couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let Fuyuko lose the boy like that, couldn’t let Minato’s son die like that. Better he be sent away now, better he be alive to be angry, to feel betrayed, then to be dead.

Kakashi and Fuyuko could hate him all they liked, he’d accepted that, but he would do his best to protect them, to protect Naruto; because in the end, they were all he had left of his boy, his son, and he owed it to Minato. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FORTY- FOUR :

With the knowledge of the Chūnin Exams approaching in less then three months, Sansa had turned to her training with a new vigour.

There was no more D-ranks, only taijutsu training, weapons training, sparring and ninjutsu. Jiraiya worked her into the ground, taking advantage of the fact her enhanced healing meant that any strained or torn muscles disappeared almost as soon as the injury occurred. Even broken bones only took a day to return to rights if left to heal naturally– though Jiraiya was not that cruel. 

Sansa would almost enjoy the ninjutsu training, if it was not for the upcoming Chūnin Exam hanging over the back of her neck, like the sharpened bite of steel of an executioner's blade. Her chakra felt as if it sang when Jiraiya taught her the handsigns to let the oceans within her become oceans in truth, the taste of salt on her lips as she breathed out a twisting column of water she could shape as she pleased, forming whips that could slice through trees or swirling vortexes of water that swallowed anything that would do her harm. 

She also learned how to coax the moisture from the air, how to shape it into deadly senbon, kunai and arrows that perforated the targets in the training grounds, deadly even as the water sang with her chakra. 

Sansa pretended she didn't notice Jiraiya's unease as he watched her; she remembered how Uzumaki Kairi had commanded the wind, the waves, the whirlpools, and as the water answered her call, as she wielded it, coaxing it into following her bidding, it felt right.

Mito was just as insistent in her training as Jiraiya, and although her sleep suffered for it, Sansa spent half her nights practicing her sealing under Mito's stern tutelage, channelling her chakra into new seals that blazed to life under her palms. Mito was also supportive of her learning water techniques. "I never learned much ninjutsu," she admitted, "and I was wind-natured, so the few techniques I do know are to do with air– but I do know this, my angel-fish," and here Mito smiled, sharp and dangerous, "over half of the human body is water."

And wasn't that a terrifyingly thrilling thought?

Sansa was impatient to add tessenjutsu to her training regime, but it wasn't until the next Council meeting that she was able to enact her plans for the war-fan.

She had sewn a new dress for the Council meeting, intending to make an impression for this one as she had her last; it was Westerosi style, pale, creamy sea-foam blue-green fabric draped in full, loose skirts that looped up at the back and cinched in at her waist, with wide, sharply-angled bell sleeves. Naruto had helped her style her hair back like a large conch shell, held in place with hidden pins, and she'd found a shade of make-up that almost matched her dress to line her cheeks but kept the Uzushio spiral the same bloody red. 

Everything about the style was unusual enough by Konoha's standards that it drew attention, yet the dress was beautiful so none could turn their nose down at it, though some did anyway.

The Council meeting itself was an eventful one. Haruno Ayaka and the other civilian representative on the Council, Kichirō Masahiro from the banking guild, had been busy in the time between this one and the last, having come up with a list of demands from the various major merchant families and trade guilds that existed within Konoha, along with the civilian hospital and schools, and the orphanages. It was no less then Sansa had been expecting, though even she was impressed by how quickly they had moved, capitalising on the current political sway they had.

It was more or less settled now that there would be more civilians indicted to the Council; the current issue to be argued was just how many and which interested parties deserved to be represented. By the end of the session, it had been decided that along with the merchant clans and banking guilds, represented by Masahiro and Ayaka, there would be an additional six representatives, including for the civilian hospital, their social system, their school system, the local businesses, the local restaurants and the local tradesmen. Now, the arguments were over just who those representatives would be.

Most of the clan heads weren't happy, but Ayaka and Masahiro were very pleased and so was Sansa– the civilians wouldn't forget who had opened this possibility up to them, no matter how much they might wish they could considering their attitudes towards the 'demon brats', and while only time would show how how such an investment would pan out, Sansa hoped that she and Naruto would find themselves more welcomed in Konoha proper– and that she would find herself with more allies on the Council when the new members were elected.

When the meeting drew to a close, Sansa steeled herself for what would come next; she was taking a gamble here, she knew, but she needed to train with a tessen before the Chūnin Exams. To do that, she would need one custom-made for her that mimicked the tessen traditionally wielded by Uzushio's ruler– and nameless it might be, just as the gods of Uzushio were, the tessen was still all-too recognisable as an old, powerful weapon, one with a weighted legacy, to someone who knew their craft and for what she required, 

Sansa needed the services of someone who knew their craft. She just didn't trust that any shinobi blacksmith store she went to wouldn't immediately report that she had approached them and what she had approached them with to the Hokage, who was certain to want to confiscate the tessen. 

That was why she needed Haruno Ayaka's help.

"Haruno-san," she greeted the woman politely outside the Hokage Tower, bowing to her.

"Uzumaki-sama," Haruno replied with a bow of her own, slightly lower as was expected when greeting someone of a higher status. And oh, Sansa couldn't help her delight as she watched those around her make note of this, feeling the surprise-shock-interest-disgust rippling in the chakra of the various clan heads. She made note of those whose surprise was tinged with approval compared to those who were disgusted for future contemplation before turning her attention back to Ayaka, with what Arya called her 'court smile' on her face even as genuine delight glittered in her eyes.

She appreciated someone who could play the game as Ayaka did, acknowledging Sansa's status as higher then her own was an interesting move– merchants occupied an interesting position in social class of the Elemental Nations. Traditionally, they were seen at the lowest rungs of society, barely above shinobi, who as death-dealers were considered the lowest of the low along with 'entertainers', beggars, leather workers, executioners, and others who worked with death. 

However, just as shinobi acquired status with the formidable power they wielded and subsequent wealth they gained through their selling their services as mercenaries, merchants too acquired new status through rising wealth and with their new wealth, strategic marriages into noble families.

This social mobility had shaken the rigid social class that had been maintained for so long and while some nobles still turned their noses up at merchant families and paid them little respect, referring to them and treating them as little better then common rabble, others respected them for their still-rapidly expanding wealth and influence across the Elemental Nations, as the most successful merchant clans were not restricted to one country, but expanded from one end of the continent to the other.

The Haruno merchants were one such clan; their Konoha branch was wealthy and well-connected, trading in many different goods and sponsoring many different businesses, and it was these connections that Sansa was hoping to utilise– and Haruno Ayaka's seemingly goodwill towards her was making her hopeful that it would be possible. 

"I understand that the Haruno Clan have many connections with the local businesses of Konoha," she said lightly, with a pretty smile up at the woman, "should I seek to procure the services of a blacksmith whose skill lies in crafting weapons, preferably for a matter of– ah, discretion, would you have any advice for me?"

Ayaka smiled back at her, beautiful and glittering. "Would you care to walk with me, Uzumaki-sama?" she asked instead of answering. "It's a lovely day to visit the markets, don't you think?"

"And even lovelier to visit with the company of a friend," Sansa said, immediately understanding Ayaka's offer.

To be seen in Ayaka's company among the markets that bought and sold goods from the Harunos was no small boon from the other woman. It was an implicit approval that would make accessing any stores that traded with the Haruno Clan an easier task for her, one of the hated "demon brats", in the future, for none of them would wish to insult a Haruno, particularly not the sister of the head of the Konoha branch of the Clan.

Ayaka must be in a better mood following the Council meeting then Sansa had realised.

There was a certain hush that fell over the market as Sansa walked side by side with Ayaka. It would almost be entertaining, if it wasn't so pathetic. The people looked as if they wanted to chase her away as they usually tried, yet with Haruno Ayaka beside her, resplendant in her many layers of kimonos, chatting lightly as she walked beside Sansa with the grace of a noble, they didn't dare.

Ayaka eventually veered off from the market, leading them down a winding backstreet, stopping outside a building Sansa recognised from the sharp scent of smoke in the air alone to be the promised blacksmith. Sansa half-expected her to leave, now that she had fulfilled her favour, but instead Ayaka was first to step into the smithy and, slightly bemused, Sansa stepped in after her.

Inside was swelteringly hot. The smithy clearly wasn't intended for selling goods, instead its purpose was solely for their creation; tools lined the walls, half-finished pieces covered wooden benches and there was a door leading to where Sansa assumed the forge itself was located.

"Mamoru!" Ayaka called, "you have a customer!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" A gruff voice shouted, "stop being so pushy, Aya-chan!"

The door separating the shop-front from the forge was shoved opened so violently it hit the wall, rebounding off and almost slamming into the shuffling, scowling old man that stomped through, though he merely elbowed it aside. He was clearly related to Ayaka; his hair was grey but his eyes were the same sharp, sea-glass green as hers.

His scowl deepened when he saw Sansa beside Ayaka. "A kid?" he demanded. "What does a kid want?"

At least he wasn't complaining about her being a Jinchūriki.

"Uzumaki-sama, this is my uncle, Haruno Mamoru," Ayaka introduced the man, sounding mildly exasperated, but also as if she was accustomed to his eccentricities. "Uncle, this is Uzumaki Fuyuko."

Sansa bowed even though the man didn't and smiled politely at him. "A pleasure to meet you, Haruno-san," she said. "I require your services in making an unmarked replica of this," here, she pressed her hand against her forearm, activating the storage seal so she could remove the tessen.

Mamoru's eyes widened when he saw the seal on her arm. They widened further when he saw the tessen.

"I haven't seen work like that for a damn long time," he murmured, shuffling forwards and lifting the tessen from her with surprisingly gentle hands considering how calloused and burned his fingers were. "Not since Uzushio fell."

"I'm not strong enough to face the consequences of wielding her yet," Sansa said softly, appreciating the respect with which he was treating the tessen. "That is why I need the replica made. But it needs to be a perfect copy– perfect size, perfect weight distribution, perfect everything."

"Yes," Mamoru nodded, appearing lost in thought as he examined the tessen with the sort of reverence that such a weapon, such a legacy, deserved, "yes, I can do it." He turned his attention from the tessen to peer down at her, this time appearing to actually look at her, at her hair and the Uzushio spiral on her forehead. "Are you certain you can deal with the consequences of wielding her?" he asked gruffly. "She's no toy."

Sansa's eyes darkened. "They tried to destroy my people," she said, sharp and biting as winter, "they tried to erase our legacy from history. I'm going to prove they failed."

Mamoru nodded slowly. "Alright," he said. "Alright. I'll do it." Sansa felt a weight ease off her shoulders with his agreement, triumphant flaring within her.

"Thank you," she said. "How quickly can you have it done?"

"In a rush?" Mamoru asked, sounding gruffly amused now. Sansa smiled at him, her sharp teeth on show.

"The Hokage decreed that to have the Uzumaki officially recognised as a Clan, I must compete in the upcoming Chūnin Exams," she said, and she kept smiling even as she spoke in a voice as searingly cold as a winter blizzard. "I just discovered they are being held in Kiri."

Both Mamoru and Ayaka went still before her. Mamoru's chakra was a quieter thing, harder for her to feel, but Ayaka's was sharp and cutting as rocks under bare feet and she was furious behind her calm facade.

"Kiri, you say?" Mamoru said, voice low. He and Ayaka exchanged looks and then Mamoru nodded. "Come back in three days," he told her. "It'll be ready then."

Sansa agreed and when he named the price for his services, she didn't attempt to barter it down; it was high but still lower then she'd been expecting– she suspected Ayaka's influence– and she would pay whatever it took. Besides, the gods knew she had enough money for a rush order with all the D ranks Jiraiya had had her do. 

"Thank you," she said after the money had traded hands. She thought she would feel uneasy about leaving Uzushio's tessen in someone else's hands, but she realised she trusted Mamoru. Or at least, she trusted that he would treat the tessen with the respect that Uzushio's legacy deserved. 

"Don't die," Mamoru said in return. "Don't let the bastards win."

"I won't let any of them win," Sansa said, though with the sudden rage it was more of a wolf's snarl. "I'm not done with this world yet."

Mamoru was good to his word, not that she had doubted him. When Sansa returned to his shop in three days time, telling Jiraiya she needed to pick up an order, the replica tessen was ready. 

It was a perfect mimicry to the Uzushio tessen, only instead of a raging ocean storm, the lacquered surface of the war-fan was a rich purple, for which Sansa suspected Ayaka's influence; purple was historically used by the ruling class of the Elemental Nations, only in the last two hundred years had it become legal for commoners to use and it still was associated with high-level officials, nobles and royalty– such as an Uzumaki princess.

On the front of the war-fan, on the rich purple surface, the Uzushio spiral slashed across in the same blood-spray style that Sansa styled across her forehead– only, this spiral was painted on in bright, shimmering gold.

Gold was the colour that symbolised the gods; it was the colour of their power and their mercy.

But the gods had no mercy– and neither would Sansa.

"It's perfect," she breathed, her heart beating quicker in her chest. 

"She's as good as she can get for a rush order," Mamoru corrected her. "But she's still good work, of course– she's my work. Take her."

"Thank you," Sansa told him again, heartfelt and genuine, and Mamoru nodded.

Naruto loved the tessen too, when she showed him that evening. "You have ta pick a name for her," he insisted, his blue eyes bright with excitement.

"Let's call her– Shion," Sansa decided.

"Shion?" Naruto asked curiously. "Like the flower?"

"Like asters," Sansa agreed, thinking of the starry-shaped purple blooms with their yellow-orange heads– in the right lighting, it could almost be called gold. "Asters mean remembrance," she told Naruto, "and we'll always remember Uzushio."

Naruto nodded solemnly. "Our home," he said sadly.

"Our home," Sansa agreed.

When Sansa took the tessen, Shion, to her next training session with Jiraiya, he took one look at the golden spiral on the purple-laquered face and sighed.

"Well, it's not a bad idea," he said. "You need some kind of weapon, to support your ninjutsu and taijutsu. Tessenjutsu is good for nerve points and joint-locking techniques, which are always good when fighting opponents who favour swords. It's also good for fending off kunai and senbon."

"Can you teach me?" Sansa asked him, pleased by the assessment.

"No," Jiraiya shook his head. "But I know someone who can."

He worked quickly too. Sansa had just finished her morning run, arriving back at the training grounds to find a Hyūga standing stiffly beside Jiraiya. "Ah, excellent," Jiraiya said, clapping his hands together. "Fuyuko-chan, this is Hyūga Hiromi. Hiromi-chan, this is Fuyuko. Hiromi-chan is going to teach you how to use that tessen of yours."

"Do not call me Hiromi-chan," the Hyūga woman said icily before turning to Sansa. "Show me your weapon," she demanded. Sansa removed Shion from the seal and did as Hiromi said. Hiromi examined the tessen, pausing slightly at the spiral, then nodded shortly. "It will do," she said, before handing it back to Sansa.

The next three hours were as gruelling as any training session with Jiraiya. Hiromi was as forgiving as any mistakes as Jiraiya was, her tongue was sharp as Sansa's own and she expected perfection on Sansa's first attempt– anything but was a failure and treated accordingly.

Sansa did learn, though. The lesson began with how to hold the tessen, before progressing to basic stances, then moving through different katas while holding Shion, to grow accustomed to holding the tessen while in motion.

It was difficult work, but Sansa thought of the Uzushio tessen, she thought of Mito's expression when Sansa had told her of it, and she pushed herself to meet Hiromi's exacting standards, determined to become worthy of wielding it.

"We are done for the day," Hiromi finally declared. "We will meet every second day. You will train at least two hours on the days we do not meet. I will know if you do not," she threatened. "Is this understood?"

"Yes, Hyūga-sensei," Sansa bowed to her new teacher who nodded shortly, shot Jiraiya a dark, vicious look and then left.

"What in the gods name did you do to her?" Sansa asked, giving Jiraiya an incredulous look.

"I hired her as your teacher as a long-term in-village mission– and I got the Hokage to force her to accept," Jiraiya answered easily. When Sansa gave him an incredulous look, because that had to be ridiculously expensive, Jiraiya just gave her a steady look in return. "I told you," he said, "I'm going to make sure you survive."

Sansa found that she had to look away for him. Because, for the first time, she found that she believed him.

~

Time crept by. Days turned to weeks turned to months. Sansa spent all the time she could with Naruto, so desperately aware that despite everything, despite all the time she desperately spent training with Jiraiya, Hiromi and Mito, in just a few short weeks she could be dead.

Two weeks before she was due to leave for Kiri, Sansa met the two other genin she'd be teaming up with for the Exams for the first time. Their third teammate wasn't interested in advancing past genin, instead planning to join the Genin Corp, which left an open place on their team for the Chūnin Exams– one that Sansa had been slated to fill.

The sensei of the team sat them all down and asked them to introduce themselves. "Tell us your name, your favourite hobbies, your dislikes, and your dreams for the future," she encouraged. "For example, my name is Yamanaka Eri, I like gardening and making poisons, I dislike weeds, and my dream for the future is to become a poison specialist."

"My name is Hirai Chiyoko," the other girl on the team said shyly. She was about thirteen and gangly, with short dark hair and soft, tulip-pink eyes. "I like playing with my sister and friends, I dislike chilli, and my dream for the future is to make my family proud by becoming a Chūnin."

"Fuyuko-chan, why don't you go next?" Eri said kindly.

"My name is Uzumaki Fuyuko," Sansa said a little blankly, unsure what to say in the face of the normalcy that had come from her new teammate, "I like my brother and sewing, I dislike–" Konoha– "foolish cowards unable to tell a kunai from a sealing scroll–" or a child from a Bijuu– "and my dream is to help my brother achieve his dream of being a Kage."

Eri looked a little shaken. Jiraiya, who was standing nearby, leaning against a tree, looked darkly amused.

Her last teammate's chakra had sharpened with interest, despite how his expression had failed to shift.

"Kabuto-kun, your turn," Eri said, apparently trying to restore normality as she turned to the third team member, another thirteen year old, this one a boy with ash-grey hair, eyes so dark they were indistinguishable from the pupil and dark-rimmed circular glasses.

"My name is Yakushi Kabuto, I like medical jutsu, I dislike natto and my dream is to become a medic-nin," he said, with a quiet, shy smile of his own. Sansa nodded along, just as she had with Chiyoko's introduction, and thought to herself liar. People's chakra didn't always match what they were saying, but there was something particularly slippery about Kabuto's chakra that didn't fit with the quiet, soft-mannered persona he was projecting.

Not that Sansa was one to toss stones from her glass house, not when she kept her wolf's teeth carefully tucked behind soft lips.

"Well!" Eri said brightly, "the first stages of the Chūnin Exams are often about teamwork, so we're going to be using the mornings of these next two weeks to work on your teamwork. Obviously, Chiyoko-chan and Kabuto-kun are used to working together, but Fuyuko-chan will need sone practice working on a team with you both too. 

"Now, Jiraiya has kindly supplied these," she held up three tags with seals inked on them, "for our first teamwork exercise today!" She beamed, but there was a sudden, wicked spark in her eyes and Sansa was suddenly reminded of the fact that Yamanaka were taught psychology practically from birth.

The seals, as it turned out, were each designed to cut off either sight, hearing or speech– Sansa ended up with no hearing. It was then up to the three of them to navigate their way through one of the training grounds together– the trap-filled training grounds, where Sansa was abruptly reminded of Eri's introduction, when she had told them she was an aspiring poison specialist– and while Jiraiya wasn't an Uzushio seal-master, he was still a seal-master.

At least Sansa had a resistance to poisons, thanks to the miserable training she'd gone through with Root. Her teammates weren't so lucky and she ended up volunteering herself to lead, as she was the one best positioned to not only de-activate the trap seals but was the most able to resist the effects of the poisons if they didn't manage to spot them in time.

Kabuto ended up helpful in healing himself and Chiyoko from the poisons, despite his lack of vision, and Chiyoko was surprisingly adept at spotting the traps and knew basic hand-signs, so her inability to speak was mostly an inconvenience, not a hindrance.

They were slightly bedraggled, but more or less in one piece by the time they'd cleared the training grounds. Which was good, because that was apparently just the warmup– next, Eri wanted them to fight her while still under the influence of the seals. 

Between the three of them, they quickly realised that Sansa was their best fighter– both Chiyoko and Kabuto accepted that fact with surprising grace, despite the fact she was nearly half their age. With his lack of sight, Kabuto was at the biggest disadvantage so they decided between them that Chiyoko would defend him, while he would act as the medic-nin for the team and Sansa would be their front-line attacker.

The first spar, Sansa got Eri on the ground near-instantly with a paralysis seal she wasn't expecting. The second spar, Eri was more careful to avoid her hands and Sansa had to fight harder to keep Eri away from her teammates, eventually ending up fighting side-by-side with Chiyoko to keep Eri from Kabuto.

Sansa found it difficult, fighting without aiming to harm. It was easier when sparring with Jiraiya– his skill level was too far above her that it didn't matter that she fought with the intention to do harm, she couldn't afflict serious injury to him. It was the same with Hiromi and learning tessenjutsu.

But with Eri, if she went full-out Sansa wasn't sure that Eri would have the skill to put her down without Sansa injuring her badly.

That was probably why Jiraiya had stayed, Sansa realised. She had wondered– it couldn't have been too interesting to him, to just stay and watch. But if he was here to make sure she didn't lose control... that made more sense.

It was– disturbing. Sansa could feel the tightly leashed violence in her body slipping, could feel how she instinctively leaned towards killing blows, the currents under her palms twisting into lethal seals; ones that would paralyse Eri's breathing muscles, stop her heart, crush her bones, flood her lungs– she could feel how her hands itched for her senbon, for kunai, how she kept instinctively reaching to pull from the air water sharp enough to slice through a human body, how her instincts screamed to put Eri down, to put her down hard. 

She looked briefly over at Jiraiya, bewildered, horrified, and when she saw only understanding on his face she felt sick. She found herself faltering, pulling back and holding off on her attacks, focusing instead on defending Kabuto. 

The exercise eventually finished when Eri called it. "Excellent, all of you," she said once they'd taken off the seals restricting their senses. "Great teamwork! I really think you've got this!"

Sansa forced herself to smile and bow to her new teammates before making her way over to Jiraiya.

"Can we talk?" she forced through numb lips. He nodded and she followed him, her breath coming a little too fast.

"It's not your fault," Jiraiya said, when they were far enough away that her new team wouldn't overhear. Sansa just looked at him, bewildered and panicked.

"I don't understand," she said.

"You don't know how to spar," Jiraiya told her with an odd gentleness. "You've never been taught how. When you've fought, it's always been against people who can kill you– and they've never held back."

Sansa forced her tight lungs to expand. "So today–?"

"Eri-chan isn't a field specialist," Jiraiya explained, and Sansa almost hated how gentle he was being, because she couldn't help how it comforted her, how it soothed the sharp edges of her panic. "She doesn't outclass you, not the way you're used to your opponents outclassing you. And she wasn't trying to crush you into the ground– she was fighting at a level to match Kabuto-kun and Chiyoko-chan. In your head, you were expecting to be fighting to the death."

"I hate it," Sansa whispered, bowing her head. "I hate what this world has made me."

"I know," Jiraiya said, and when he placed his hand over her trembling shoulders, just this once she didn't shake it away.

~

As well starting to train with her new– albeit temporary– team, in preparation for the Chūnin Exams, Jiraiya took Sansa to be officially out-fitted in shinobi gear that wasn't training gear she had borrowed from Naruto.

"It will have to be tailored for you specifically," Jiraiya told her as they approached the stores where shinobi bought their gear.

"You mean Konoha doesn't have custom armour for child soldiers who haven't even reached a decade?" Sansa asked, faux-shocked.

Jiraiya didn't reply. He knew better by now. It almost wasn't worth winding him up.

Almost.

Following Jiraiya into the shinobi clothing store, Sansa noted the white on red circle symbolic of the Haruno merchant clan above the doorway and flicked her eyes over to Jiraiya, who purposefully didn't meet her eyes. Interesting.

They were met by the owner and assistant who both appeared flustered by Jiraiya's presence. It was easy to forget that Jiraiya was actually a famous ninja, both for his own feats and as the Hokage's student, who the wider populace of Konoha were genuinely in awe of when she had such a deficit of respect for him. The wide eyes of the pair, however, served as a rather abrupt reminder. 

The next hour in the store was more complicated then Sansa was expecting, being a far more thorough process then she had realised it would be. 

First, she had been sized up for a silk singlet to wear underneath any other clothing. It would, Jiraiya explained to her, catch and wrap around sharp projectiles, potentially saving her from a wound that would have required the projectile being cut out or pushed through her. 

Next was an elbow-length shirt of reinforced mesh, the strange material almost reminding Sansa of chainmail but for how light-weight it was. 

Over the mesh was bindings chosen to wrap around her wrists and ankles, as reinforcement against strains, sprains and dislocation, and around her chest, as extra protection for her ribs, lungs and heart.

It was only after this that they moved on to the clothes themselves. After browsing through the different potential outfits, Sansa chose a high-collared tunic-dress. Once tailored to fit her it would be knee-length with flared sleeves not too deep but similar enough to the sleeves of her Westerosi dresses to give her a sense of familiarity. The sides of the tunic-dress were slit up to the hips and to wear underneath it Sansa chose tight-fitting leggings and slim, calf-hugging boots with a concealed half-inch of iron inserted beneath the sole, giving her height and added weight to her kick.

Satisfied with her choices, Jiraiya went to pay and Sansa was left standing while the assistant finished removing out the pins, having taken the measurements in order to custom-make Sansa's tunic-dress. "I have a request," Sansa said quietly as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. 

The light blue tunic-dress with the red leggings was pretty enough, but Sansa had a very different idea of how she wanted it to look. The assistant blanched when Sansa told her what she wanted but still nodded and Sansa smiled, sharp and vicious, not even caring as the woman backed away, the scent of fear sharp in the air.

The next shop sold supplies, where Jiraiya bought her a waterproof bedroll, ration bars, soldier pills– "though you probably won't ever need them," he'd said– a med-kit and rolls and rolls of special paper for seals. "I know you don't need it," he told her, "but let's try not to advertise that fact, okay?"

Sansa accepted the paper without saying a word.

The final shop he took her to sold weapons. Sansa already had her tessen, but here Jiraiya bought her braces of kunai and senbon she could strap to her thighs and forearms, several spools of ninja wire, strange sharp spiked weapons he called 'caltrops' for her hair– "to stop people grabbing it," he'd explained– and, at last, he bought her a Konoha hitai-ate.

"You don't have a choice," he told her bluntly. "You'll be representing Konoha in a foreign village, you have to wear it."

Sansa stared distastefully at it then sighed. "Fine," she said, accepting the metal plate. Jiraiya had picked a blue band of cloth for her, the colour closely resembling the Tully-blue lines she usually painted on her cheeks. 

Her choice wasn't just based on nostalgia, however. In Kabuki theatre, the traditional, glamorous theatre of the Elemental Nations, the actors wore a special stage make-up known as 'kumadori'. This make-up usually consisted of bright, bold coloured stripes and patterns over white foundation, with different colours being symbolic of different roles, aspects and emotions. 

Blue make-up was worn by the villain characters– such as ghosts, or kitsune. 

Sansa wondered how many considered her choice to be just a coincidence. It made her want to laugh in their faces. 

She almost wanted to laugh in Jiraiya's face too. He had tried to be thoughtful, she could admit.

She almost felt sorry for him.

That night, as she got to work with her needle and thread, Naruto curled up beside her, tongue poking out slightly as he worked hard at practicing his meditation– he'd grown more and more determined to talk to his "belly-fox" so she'd had him start meditating to try and access his mindscape. If she didn't survive Kiri, she wanted him to have Kurama– she knew he'd win Kurama over, it would be impossible for him not to. He just had to be able to reach Kurama first.

When Sansa returned to the clothing shop, three days before she was set to leave for Kiri, the owner had her clothes neatly packaged in brown paper. "I almost didn't make them," she said in greeting.

"But you did," Sansa said, and the woman's eyes darted to Sansa's forehead, where the blood-red Uzushio spiral was slashed across in the style of blood-spray.

"I did," she agreed. "Against my better judgment, I did."

"Thank you," Sansa said, honest in her gratitude, but the woman only looked grimly down at her.

"I'm not sure you should be thanking me, girl," she said, pushing the package forwards. "Take it."

Sansa did, bowing to the woman before turning and leaving.

She was ready.

~

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE:

The night before Sansa was due to leave for Kiri, she stood before the heart-tree in her mindscape, the seal that bound Kurama an ugly, bold mess before her as Mito hovered at her shoulder. Her palm was pressed against the thick black ink as she fed her chakra into it, letting it trace out the lines for her to memorise. 

Closing her eyes, Sansa pushed her chakra further, reaching deeper, feeling for the heart of the seal. Around her, the weirwoods towered, their crimson faces weeping, the foxfire flared bright, almost blinding, and the Kotoamatsukami burned, turning the sky into a sea of flame and abyss.

Sansa could feel the chakra in the ink. There were two very distinct sets; one stronger than the other. The stronger chakra felt similar to Naruto, but less like a storm, more like a whirlwind. The other... the other was heartachingly familiar.

Kushina.

Opening her eyes, Sansa exhaled as she withdrew her chakra from the seal, the black ink now lit up a blazing gold.

"I think I can remove it," she said, slightly breathless from the effort she had expended. "It's not an Uzushio seal, created from pure chakra; it was drawn with ink, it will naturally weaken over time, and I can... speed that process along."

"But there's a catch," Kurama rumbled, fire-bright eyes narrowed despite the sudden flare of hope she could see.

"But there's a catch," Sansa agreed softly. "To use brute force in such a manner... even if channelling that much chakra failed to kill me, your release from the seal would rip me apart."

"Unacceptable," Mito said sharply, spinning around to glare at Kurama, her lips pulled back in a snarl of her own, her blunt teeth not detracting from the danger of her expression. "That is unacceptable, Sansa!" She repeated, a dark warning in her stormy eyes as she glared up at Kurama.

"...are there any other options?" Kurama asked after a brief pause, and Sansa wasn't ashamed to say tears blurred her vision. 

"There are," she said, trying discretely wiping them even as her heart warmed at the notion that Kurama would choose continued captivity over her death. How far they had come, from the hatred and loathing that had once coloured Kurama's interactions with her. "I can weaken it over time," she explained to them, "it would be a slower process, but only by a few years. And in that time, I'm sure that between us we can come up with a solution to the actual extraction problem. The other option– well, I thought it was important to bring it up. In case... in case things go wrong in Kiri. If I'm going to die, I don't want to take you with me, Kurama."

Kurama looked... well, it was difficult to put to words their expression, but the wave of crimson-edged chakra that brushed against Sansa was gentle, for all that it burned, and that spoke more than any words could.

"Humans," they murmured. But the word was fond and Sansa reached back with her own chakra, letting it mingle with Kurama's, her oceans singing with power where they met Kurama's fire. 

~

It was well before dawn when Sansa woke the morning she was due to leave for Kiri, but falling back asleep was a lost cause. Naruto was curled up in her arms, her chin tucked over his golden head, and she held him tight, wishing she never had to let go of him; her brother, her pack, her little wolf-cub.

Naruto woke as the sun's first rays started to peek through the edges of the curtains and he instantly squirmed around, burrowing his face into the curve of her neck and whimpering. "Shh," she murmured, holding him close, "shh, I'm here."

"You're leaving," he whined, and Sansa could feel his claws piercing her skin as he gripped her as tight as he could.

"I know," Sansa murmured back wretchedly. "I know, my love, my little prince, I know."

"I don't want you too!" Naruto wailed, the tears coming thick and fast now and Sansa could feel her own tears coming on as she held Naruto tight. He cried for what felt like a small eternity and there was nothing Sansa could truly say to comfort him. There were no true promises she could give him. She could die. The odds were against her. All she could do, all she could vow, was that she would do her best to return to him.

When his tears slowed to hiccups, they finally separated, her arms unwinding from their tight hold around him as he released his grip on her. "Hush," Sansa scolded gently as Naruto looked guiltily at the small streaks of blood from where his claws had pierced her skin. "Don't be sorry, my little wolf; we were born in the wild, we carry it in our veins– never apologise for who you are."

They lay there together for as long as they could before eventually they had to get up, if they wanted to visit the shrine before Sansa left. They dressed in silence, Sansa pulling on her new gear for the first time and taking great care in painting her face, going past her usual palate for a different choice of colours.

When she and Naruto stepped out of their apartment, everyone who saw them, saw her, stopped dead and Sansa almost wanted to smile, sharp and vicious. Instead she swept by them all, head raised high; regal as the queen she was, in name and in truth.

At her side, Naruto was appropriately solemn. He may not understand the significance of her manner of dress, but he did understand that something significant was happening and for once he wasn't skipping or bouncing ahead, instead walking by her side with no smile on his small face.

When they reached their shrine, Sansa knelt beside her brother, her hand never leaving his, her chakra intertwined so close with his own that she could practically feel the beating of his heart, could taste his fear.

Let me come back to him, she prayed; desperate and fierce, a plea and a demand. Don't take me from him. Don't let him lose me too.

Behind her eyelids, foxfire flashed; bright and glowing.

Suzuki Tama was waiting for them outside the shrine. The older girl's face was hard, but her dark eyes, Nara eyes, softened slightly at the sight of Naruto. "I'll take our little Komorebi-kun from here," she murmured and Sansa's grip on Naruto tightened for a moment before relaxing.

"Thank you," she murmured, the added weight to those words conveying more than just her gratitude for sparing Naruto from having to be there in person to see her leave the village, for having to be alone today.

Tama nodded and Sansa turned to Naruto, cradling his face in her small hands. "My little prince," she said, her heart aching. "No matter what happens, I want you to know that I love you. I love you more than anything in this world. You are my world, Naruto."

"I love you too," Naruto whispered and Sansa leaned forwards, pressing her forehead against his.

"Goodbye, my darling," she whispered, before letting go, letting Tama step forwards and take the already-sobbing Naruto into her arms, her heart feeling as if it were breaking in her chest.

She ached to reach back for her brother, to hold him to her, but she forced herself to turn, to leave, hating herself for every step she took away from Naruto's sobs.

The village had woken while she and Naruto prayed in the shrine and Sansa was very aware of the silence that fell around her as she walked through it and it satisfied the viciously angry part of her that wanted to lash out, that wanted those around her to hurt for the pain she felt in her heart.

Nobody dared to jeer at her this morning.

Nobody dared try to chase her away.

She met Jiraiya and her temporary team at the gates of Konoha. They weren't the only ones there. Sansa was surprised to see Haruno Ayaka standing in her many layers of kimonos, hair as elaborate as ever, jewels glittering at her throat. She was less surprised to see Tama had sent a presence; a swell of street kids from the Yūkaku, Konoha's unwanted and forgotten children, today all wearing red stripes on their cheeks.

In Kabuki theatre performances, red stripes painted on the actors' faces represented courage, strength– and justice.

Oh, Tama was a clever, clever girl.

Everyone all fell silent as Sansa approached, just as all those she had passed earlier had. Sansa's focus was on Jiraiya, however, and she held out her arms, her sleeves fluttering, and smiled at him, baring her sharp wolf's teeth.

"Well?" she asked him. "What do you think?"

Sansa had draped herself in the colours of mourning, the colours of death*; from her tunic-dress, to the tight-fitting leggings, to the calf-hugging boots, to the band of cloth the hitai-ate was sewn on– which she had chosen to wear around her neck, symbolic of the noose that it was– everything she wore was white as fresh-fallen snow. 

Her jewel-bright hair was tied atop her head in a shining knot, held in place by the kanzashi Inari-sama had given her, the kanzashi once worn by Uzushio's Empress, several long strands spilling over her shoulders, like trails of blood against the pure white.

When it came time to painting her face, her Uzushio spiral was done in its now customary blood-red slashed across her forehead where a hitai-ate traditionally sat in the style of arterial spray; she had even added small streaks and droplets to make it look more like blood splatter. Her cheeks she had lined the same bold, rich purple of Shion– the purple of nobles, of royalty.

There was no mistaking her intentions. No chance of anyone mistaking her for anything but who and what she was; an Uzumaki of Uzushio, a Princess of the lost Whirlpools.

"Oh Fuyuko," Jiraiya breathed, and there was something about his face that she couldn't interpret. It wasn't quite the horror she'd been expecting– in fact, there was something bewilderingly close to nostalgic in the twist of his chakra as he took her in.

Yamanaka Eri and Hirai Chiyoko looked pale in their shock, a far more satisfying reaction, while there was a glimmer on interest in Kabuto's eyes as he took in her choice. Ayaka looked pleased and barely tried to hide that fact while Tama's people looked on with sharp eyes and sharper smiles.

"When this all inevitably goes up in flames–" Jiraiya started to say, having finally pulled himself together, but Sansa interrupted him.

"I'll be the last one standing," she said as she swept past him towards the gate, her chin held high. She shot him a sharp-toothed smile over her shoulder. "I always am– just ask Danzo."

"That might be hard," Jiraiya said dryly. "Considering the state of him right now."

Sansa's smile widened, pretty and predatory.

"Exactly."

~

It took them three days to reach Kiri. Sansa was impatient the entire time, her unease translating to short, snappish moods, her tongue cutting down Eri and Chiyoko whenever the two tried to include her in their conversation. Jiraiya and Kabuto seemed to know better than to try.

The day before they were due to arrive at Kiri, Jiraiya briefed them as to the political situation. "Kiri," he told them, "is a mess. The Water Daimyō went... well, he went mad, basically, about three years ago and had his closest family and advisors executed, convinced they were plotting against him. There was a massive political power vacuum and all the nobles were scrambling, trying to figure out what to do– all of them wanted more power, of course, but none of them wanted to end up the next lot of victims to a mad Daimyō.

"While all this was happening, there was nobody to really take notice of the fact that the Mizukage had started a bloodline purge. Any other time, the Daimyō would have stepped in– of course they would have, bloodline clans are powerful, they're a mark of a village's strength. It's madness to think of anyone, let alone a Kage, turning against such strength. But the Mizukage did, and there are always enough shinobi jealous and afraid of those with bloodlines that he had enough support in his campaigns.

"It shook the entire Elemental Nations," Jiraiya admitted, and he felt shaken, his chakra twisting in unease. "The Shogun stepped in, sent his samurai to depose the Water Daimyō and had him replaced with a cousin of the Daimyō who survived the initial executions due to being a guest at the Shogun's court at the time. As for Kiri... well, there's a reason it's known as Chigiri no Sato– Village of the Bloody Mist. Thousands of their own died at the hands of their own forces."

"I don't know why such atrocities could possibly have surprised anyone," Sansa said, her tone cold enough to freeze over the oceans. "This is the same village that committed genocide against Uzushio, out of fear for their strength. Why wouldn't they commit genocide against their own people, out of that same fear?"

A strained silence followed her words.

"Yes," Jiraiya said quietly, "well, that's the current situation in Kiri. There's a reason why Konoha has only sent one team– and why they've sent me to accompany you. It's a dangerous, unstable situation and you're going to have to be on your guard the entire time and obey every order I give. I don't know how many other villages will be sending representation– I'm guessing only the other major villages, because not sending a team would show too much weakness. That means you'll mainly be facing Kiri teams and you need to understand this; Kiri is not like Konoha, they are not going to have any mercy and they will not hold back. You are going to have to kill in these Exams, if you want to survive. Do you understand?"

Chiyoko looked pale but Kabuto looked expressionless as they all nodded. For Sansa, whose hands were already soaked with blood, this wasn't new information to her. She already knew she wasn't going to be leaving Kiri alive without a fight.

~

They arrived at Kiri on the afternoon of the third day.

~

The stone wall that acted as a border around the Hidden Village of the Mist rose up before them, seeming to rise taller and taller as they approached. Ninja patrolled along the top of the wall, flashing by too fast for Sansa to track, and as they approached the large gateway she could see four shinobi standing there, waiting.

Sansa could feel the moment the Kiri nin saw her. It wasn't as obvious on any of their faces; they were too well-trained for that. But they couldn't hide their chakra, not from her, and Sansa could feel how it twisted into shock-shock-anger-disgust-fear.

Jiraiya shifted, looming at her back as one of them moved his hand to his hip, where a weapons pouch sat, and the man froze at whatever expression Jiraiya must be wearing. Sansa carefully did not smile, despite the temptation. She kept her expression ice-cold, instead; it could be difficult, to appear entirely above someone when she was half their size, but that was the image Sansa intended to project.

"Konoha," one of the gate guards finally greeted them, his voice uneasy.

"We're here for the Chūnin Exams," Eri said, her voice impressively firm considering their welcome so far, the atmosphere so tense Sansa honestly wouldn't be surprised if it was about to break out into violence. "We're expected."

"...Egawa," one of the gate guards said finally, and one of the four shinobi split away, moving over to press a hand against the stone. Sansa's insides went molten with rage when a seal lit up golden under his palm and with a rumble of stone an archway opened. Jiraiya actually had to reach down and grip onto her shoulder, a warning not to react.

She had known, that Kiri and Iwa wouldn't have merely seen fit to destroy Uzushio and massacre her people. She had known that they would have stripped it of all of value, that they would have stolen anything they could find, including all knowledge of seals they could get their hands on. But to be so brazen, and right in front of her!

She met the eyes of the shinobi who had used the gate seal, Egawa, and she didn't know what expression she wore, but the way his chakra twisted in fear told her he knew her fury.

One of the gate guards darted off ahead while Egawa led them through the streets of Kirigakure, Sansa wrestling with her molten rage, her face a blank mask as she did so. Focusing on her surroundings did help to distract her somewhat as she took in the differences between Kiri and Konoha. 

Kiri reminded her of the Iron Islands. Its rocky shores led out to a dark, churning ocean, over which hovered its namesake, a mist so thick Sansa couldn't see two yards past the shoreline, let alone the distant horizon. The mist had rolled down from the mountains that overlooked the village, their distant, jagged peaks dark and forbidding.  

The village itself had a grim atmosphere to it. The streets were empty of people and the marketplace was hushed as they walked through it; the merchants didn't call out as they did in Konoha, merely watched the procession of shinobi file past with blank faces and hard eyes– eyes that caught on Sansa, on her hair, on the symbol she wore on her forehead, and followed her long after she'd passed.

Another key difference from Konoha that Sansa noted was that the buildings were made from stone, in place of the wood that a majority of Konoha's buildings were constructed from. They were hardier, tougher, like the people they housed. She couldn't see any street children around, but she knew they'd be somewhere. There always were, especially in places as dark and broken as this, where violence had cut families down and left survivors wandering lost and the blood had sunk deep into the stone on which they walked.

There were stains on the ground. Dark stains, the sort that refused to come out no matter how hard they were scrubbed.

Sansa knew those stains. She'd seen them before.

The Bloody Mist indeed.

Their small party was led to a large, round stone tower in the centre of the village, built tall and heavy. It was well-guarded, Sansa could tell from the number of chakra signatures, but one in particular stood out. It was near the top of the tower and it felt... familiar. Corrosive, yet it didn't burn; it reminded her of the ocean; or rather, it reminded her of the agony of salt water poured in fresh, weeping wounds and the memory made her want to shudder, to flinch away from the oppressive presence. Through sheer force of will alone, she stood her ground, keeping her face blank.

A man came out of the tower to meet them. He was tall, almost as tall as Jiraiya, and shirtless, with bandages wrapped around the lower half of his face. He carried on his back a sword bigger than he was– and had she mentioned he was shirtless?

"Compensating much?" Jiraiya muttered.

"I'm compensating for nothing, old man," the man jeered, before turning his gaze unnervingly down at Sansa. "So you're the one they're pissing themselves over," he snorted, his disdain a thick, heavy thing. "You're, what, five?"

"Thereabouts," Sansa agreed, baring sharp teeth at him in a smile. She could feel when he pressed his chakra against hers, could feel the dark twist to it that Jiraiya called 'Killing Intent' and Sayomi called 'Asserting Will', and didn't flinch, instead letting her oceans rise up within her, its hungry maws swallowing down the pressure of the man's chakra as she met his gaze evenly.

"Huh," he said, letting the pressure ease off. He looked thoughtful now. "Maybe you won't end up fish food, after all."

"Are you going to show us to where we're staying or not, Momochi?" Jiraiya interrupted, actually sounding angry now, a thread of something dangerously threatening in his chakra.

The man– Momochi– rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure," he said. "I'll get to see what she's made of, soon enough," he looked down at her, and Sansa could tell that behind those bandages, he was grinning. "Maybe even literally."

"Careful," Jiraiya warned, and now there was no mistaking the threat in his voice at all. Momochi met and held his hard-eyed gaze for a moment then huffed.

"No need to be so precious," he sneered, before jerking his head. "I'll show you to your quarters," his eyes swept over Eri, Chiyoko and Kabuto and his chakra twisted in an amused sort of contempt, "however temporary they might be." He added. She could tell he was grinning again as he added, "welcome to Kiri."

*from what research has told me, in modern Japanese culture black is the colour of mourning. However, white used to be the colour worn during funerals and mourning and it wasn't until the opening of the country during the Meiji period (1868-1912) that, under Western influence, the Japanese started wearing white clothes in everyday life and the mourning colour changed to black. Considering the feudal culture of the Elemntal Nations, I'm using white as their colour of mourning/symbolic of death. 

A/N: Obviously, Zabuza hasn't defected yet, for the people who were wondering about the timeline- and Yagura is still Mizukage. 

The Chūnin Exams have finally begun! xx

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX:

Jiraiya refused to let them leave the room at the inn they'd been given until the start of the Chūnin Exams, scheduled for three days after their arrival in Kiri.

"Once the exam starts," he'd said, grim-faced, "they'll expect you to die anyway. Until then, there's no point in pushing your luck."

Sansa had conceded that he would know better than her and considering she wanted to return to Naruto alive she had followed his advice. That didn't stop her from feeling antsy, however, so she'd returned to old habits, pretending to meditate while warging into Kiri's wildlife to explore the village.

The situation in Kiri was just as grim as she'd expected from her short inspection earlier. There were no stray cats or dogs for her to warg into, only rats and the multitude of seabirds around the shores where the fishermen came in with their catch of the day, hauling in nets of squirming, silver-scaled fish as grim-faced shinobi guards lining the harbour, watching for thieves and ready to take the village's percentage of the day's work.

The people of Kiri, Sansa thought, scampering along as a rat that was barely more than skin stretched over bone, weren't just suffering the aftermath of a cull to their population. They were suffering the results of a war that had been waged on their own population.

And the fighting wasn't over yet.

Kiri may be trying to hide it from the world, but they weren't hiding it from the rats, from the gulls, from the tiny sparrows that flitted from rooftop to rooftop. Sansa watched and she listened, as the shinobi got drunk, got careless, spoke too freely when visiting filthy, rundown bars and brothels.

The Killing Squads were still being sent out. Shinobi from bloodline clans were still being hunted down to be killed. "Warmongers!" one member of a killing squad had spat, face red and bloated with drink and rage both, "they're nothing but warmongers!"

That did seem to be the reason behind the persecution that had led to the genocide; the efficiency of the bloodline users during times of war had led to them having a reputation as too powerful, much like Uzushio once had, and too hungry for a fight. There was a spiteful part of Sansa that felt no pity for them, only a burning, spiteful sense of justice served– they had reaped what they had sown, and just as they had once massacred her people for their strength and power, now they were being massacred in turn. But it wasn't just the active shinobi who were being killed, it was the innocent civilians and untrained children too.

War makes monsters of us all, she thought, almost grimly entertained.

There was nothing she could truly do, but she still let out a low, chittering keen when she heard the drunken shinobi talk about being sent out again once the visiting villages left before scampering off.

The wider, outskirts of the village were even worse than the inner village. Stone buildings were replaced by shacks that were little more than tar paper wrapped around rotting wood and people walked around dirtied, sagging and sunken, with gaunt faces and swollen bellies– a cruel symptom, Sansa knew, not of a good meal, but of a prolonged starvation. 

There were no shinobi here, just the hopeless, the helpless and the forgotten. They were always the first to die, when a war was being waged; Sansa knew keenly the starvation that came with war, people busy burying corpses not crops, and watering the soil with blood. 

Now warged into a sparrow, Sansa couldn't stop herself from flying down in front of a skeletal-looking urchin girl, collapsed on the ground and barely stirring, letting the girl grasp onto her bird-form with greedy, shaky fingers and snap the delicate bones in her neck. Back at the inn, Sansa gasped, jolting from her lax meditative pose and rubbing at her own neck, horribly disturbed by the remembered sensation, but glad the child would have at least one meal that day.

It was difficult, the conflict she felt warring inside herself. The people of Kiri were clearly suffering and there was a part of her selfishly glad of it, the part of her that mourned her own broken, massacred people and hated them for their part in Uzushio's destruction.

But there was the part of her that looked to the children, the young and the innocent, and Sansa knew better than anyone how it was when children were found guilty and punished for the crimes of their family.

She didn't want to help any of these people, these murderers of her clan, her kin. She didn't want to, she didn't, and yet...

And yet.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted to Mito, who sat across from her in the snow of Sansa's mindscape, the layers of her kimonos spread delicately out about her.

"I have told you," Mito said softly, sadly, "of how Uzushio was never a militarised village. War was never our way; we had a shinobi force, but they were not mercenaries, sent out to rob and spy and murder for a price. They were, at their heart, protectors– and you, Sansa, at your heart, are a shinobi of Uzushio. You are a protector."

Sansa felt tears well within her eyes at Mito's deep, unwavering faith in her.

"Tell me," she begged, "tell me how I can help these people."

Mito smiled at her, warm and soft.

"Sansa," she said, "oh Sansa, you have never needed me to tell you how to help someone."

And Sansa... she breathed in, breathed out, felt the mantle of responsibility settle over her, a familiar burden on her shoulders. "No," she murmured, "no I have not," she looked over to meet Mito's eyes, calm and certain once more. "But I do need your expertise in sealing."

Mito's smile widened. "Of course, Princess," she said, and there was a change in her inflection when she spoke the title she had given Sansa, a title she had never used before; a certain weight and a deference in her voice.

Sansa knew there was a choice Mito was laying out before her and when she nodded, she accepted both; the title, the deference, and the choice both brought with them; the weight of a legacy.

~

The second night of their stay in Kiri, Sansa slipped from her room in the inn. Leaving the inn itself was difficult, but Sansa had spent her youngest years slipping past her ANBU guard with a toddler at her side, then spent years training as an infiltrator; she evaded Jiraiya and the Kiri ANBU alike, making her way through the streets she had memorised earlier and not a single guard saw her.

Kiri didn't have an official Yūkaku, not in the manner that Konoha had, but it had its rougher areas, crawling with criminals, prostitutes and street children and it was these children that Sansa sought to find. 

Just as she had once singled out Suzuki Tama, Sansa hunted down a leader amongst the small gangs that wandered the streets. She didn't have the time to truly establish hierarchies but to one who knew what they were looking for it was easy enough to find a child who seemed to hold enough sway over their compatriots that Sansa felt confident in approaching him.

The boy was scrawny with pupils so large they swallowed the whites of his eyes and two long, hooked fang-like teeth with needle-sharp tips and knifelike edges in place of his lower canines. He was about two years older than her and had a blade in his hand the moment he noticed her approach. Sansa moved slowly, careful not to startle him with any sudden moves. "I go by Uzu," she said.

The boy didn't reply. Sansa wasn't expecting him to. Instead, she knelt down, ignoring the filth of the street in her search for a stone the right size– she found a rock the size of a coin and picked it up, clenching it in her fist. Red light glowed between her fingers and when she opened her hands, a seal glimmered on the rock's surface.

The boy hadn't left yet, but his strange eyes were wary; his grip on his blade had tightened.

"Like this," Sansa explained, pricking one of her fingers with a sharp tooth and leaning forwards to press her finger against the seal which sparked red. A second later, a small flame flared to life. It was small, but it burned steadily until Sansa blew puff of air and it went out. She held it out the stone and, after staring at her for a long moment, the boy stepped close enough to her to snatch up the stone, his knife raised up defensively between them.

Sansa stayed still until he'd backed away again, disappearing into the shadows of the street.

Smiling to herself, Sansa slipped away too, returning to the inn.

She spent the next day with her team; Kabuto was completely absorbed in his medical scrolls and Chiyoko nervously sharpened all her kunai then packed and unpacked and packed her pack, over and over. Sansa 'meditated' again; in truth, she spent much of her time with Mito, going over the seals that would help the children survive on the streets– the most important, they'd decided, was a fire starter, drinkable water, and a source of heat.

When night fell, Sansa returned to the same street she had the previous night; this time, just as she'd hoped, she found herself surrounded by thin, hungry faces, all of them holding stones in their hands. It was only too easy to create the seals, to watch the children turn the rocks over with fascinated hands, tracing the lines of the seal with dirty fingers. 

The boy from the previous night watched her the entire time with his sharp, strange eyes. Bloodline clan eyes, she had no doubt in her mind. He continued to watch her, until all the other children had left and then he nodded at her before disappearing once more into the shadows. 

~

The morning of the Chūnin Exams, Sansa woke grim and ready. She dressed in her gear, strapped on her weapons, including Shion which she tucked up her sleeve, and tied the noose that was the Konoha hitai-ate around her neck. 

She braided her hair back in the multiple braids style that resembled fish scales, careful that it was all tucked away in a tight, twisted knot, winding in the caltrops Jiraiya had bought her amidst the braids so that anyone who tried to grab the knot would get a nasty surprise. 

Finally, she painted her face, Uzushio's spiral in its place of pride and her cheeks lined with bold purple. Never before had it felt so much like war paint as it did now.

"Are you ready?" Jiraiya asked her as she stepped out of her room.

"I am," Sansa said and she meant it.

She met Chiyoko and Kabuto outside their rooms of the inn. Chiyoko looked pale and nervous while Kabuto looked more blank then anything.

Momochi was waiting for them at the front of the inn.

"Took you long enough," he grumbled. "Come on," he gestured impatiently, and they followed after him as he led the way through the now, to Sansa, almost familiar streets of Kiri, back to the Mizukage Tower.

Jiraiya had been right when he said only the major Hidden Villages would send a team– and only a token team, at that. Apart from Konoha, only Iwa, Kumo and Suna had sent a genin team, and all of them had only sent a single team. Kiri, in comparison, had seven teams competing in the exams.

Sansa was easily the youngest present and she could feel the stares; all the villages were aware of the symbolism of the Uzushio spiral, but Iwa would understand more than most and Sansa made sure to meet the eyes of the three genin hopefuls from Iwagakure and their sensei, slow and blank-faced in a way she knew was particularly unnerving.

"Vicious little bitch, aren't you?" Momochi muttered, clearly having noticed. He sounded approving.

Sansa looked up at him, blinking innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Momochi-san," she said sweetly, and he laughed, causing more than a few eyes to turn in their direction.

Any reply he could have made was lost, however, when a proctor stepped forwards to start the exam. "Line up in your teams," the man ordered. "You'll be called in one team at a time."

"Good luck," Jiraiya said, voice strained. Sansa nodded to him and swept forwards, chin high, not looking back to Kabuto and Chiyoko, confident that they would follow. They did.

They were the fourth team to join the line and were given the label 'Team Four' when it was finally their turn to enter the Tower. A guide led them to a door that led to a staircase and Sansa felt unease stir inside her as the stairs wound their way further and further down, until she knew they must be at least three levels underground.

Finally, they stopped and exited the winding staircase out onto an underground floor; a series of doors faced them, but before they could ask what they were meant to do their guide turned and left, returning back to the stairs and disappearing. Sansa and her teammates only had time to look at each other in confusion before three of the doors facing them opened and a Kiri shinobi stepped out each.

"If each of you would please follow one of us," instructed the shinobi furthest to the left and Sansa hesitated, her sense of unease rising. Jiraiya and Eri had been certain the first stage of the Chūnin Exams would involve teamwork, not an individual task. Nevertheless, she stepped forwards, following the leftmost shinobi, following her through the doorway into an enclosed room.

Sansa immediately felt her skin start to crawl. She knew what sort of room this was; underground, white walls, metal rings on the floor and ceiling– the desk they'd placed in the middle of the room didn't hide its original purpose, not from someone who'd spent days chained in a room just like it.

This was a cell used for torturing people.

Her anxiety at an all-time high, Sansa could barely focus as the Kiri shinobi instructed her to sit down at the desk. There were several sheets of paper on it and a pen. It was some sort of test, Sansa gathered, but she was too distracted to even think of trying to complete it, trying to fight back the panic clawing at her throat. The white was pressing down on her. She needed to get out of the cell.

The feeling of foreign chakra suddenly attempting to meld against her own was the final spark that set off the wildfire.

Just as Sansa bolted to her feet, ready to sprint past the surprised looking shinobi, to get the fuck out of the cell, she heard a scream.

Chiyoko!

Sansa didn't hesitate. She lunged for the door, and when the shinobi reached for her, to try and stop her, Sansa slammed her palm against the woman's wrist, seal blazing to life, leaving her to drop to her knees then to all fours, choking and spluttering as the pressure in the blood vessels of her lungs increased so rapidly it pushed the fluid into the lung tissue and air sacs until she was drowning in her own lungs.

Sansa could hear Chiyoko screaming even louder now and she didn't hesitate after dashing into the hallway, kicking open the closest door. It wasn't Chiyoko in there, but Kabuto; he was slumped at a desk, his eyes unfocused as a Kiri shinobi stood over him– and Sansa felt rage.

The shinobi spun around, but he made the same mistake as the woman, reaching out to grab her, and Sansa latched onto his wrist, a seal blazing under her grip. The man screamed as his blood boiled in his veins, dead before he even hit the ground.

"Kabuto!" Sansa demanded, frantic, reaching over to shake her teammate. Her panic was thick and choking, she could barely breathe. "Kabuto!"

She couldn't hear Chiyoko screaming anymore.

(She didn't think of what that could mean)

"I'm okay," Kabuto's hand was squeezing hers and Sansa realised her breath was coming so fast the world was spinning. "Breathe, Fuyuko-chan," he instructed, "I'm fine. It was a genjutsu." Sansa took a deep breath, then another, and she'd almost reached a state of equilibrium when Kiri shinobi started to pour into the room– and among them, the presence she'd felt the first day, the corrosive, salt-water-in-fresh-wounds chakra.

The man with the corrosive chakra was the one who spoke.

"What happened here?" he asked, his light purple eyes not leaving Sansa's own.

"My teammate had a bad reaction to your tactics," Kabuto answered calmly for her. "She broke the genjutsu cast over her and heard our teammate screaming. She responded as she should, upon hearing a teammate in distress while in what is potential-enemy territory."

"She killed two of the proctors!" Another shinobi exclaimed, sounding outraged from where he was kneeling over the corpse in the room.

Sansa still hadn't looked away from the man who seemed to be in charge. His chakra...

It was bijuu chakra, she finally realised. That was why it was so familiar.

He was a Jinchūriki.

"Well," the Jinchūriki said, "the test was supposed to see if the genin would give up their teammates under torture. Or at least, under a genjutsu that made them believe they were being tortured. Nobody here can truly argue that she failed, can they?"

"No, Mizukage-sama," the outraged man said, bowing his head, and Sansa's eyes widened slightly. So this was Karatachi Yagura. He seemed... younger then she'd expected.

And he was a Jinchūriki. 

"Well," Yagura said again, an almost pleasant smile on his face, "we should be sending them on their way, to prepare for the next part of the exam then, no?"

"Yes, Mizukage-sama," the man said through gritted teeth, and Sansa could feel the seething hatred in his chakra, though whether it was directed towards her or his Kage, she couldn't tell.

Yagura turned his smile away from the man, towards Sansa. "Well done on passing the first stage, Onryō-hime," he said and Sansa felt herself go still at the moniker he'd given her. Onryō were vengeful, wrathful souls of the dead, believed to be capable of causing harm in the world of the living, of injuring or killing their enemies, of even causing natural disasters to exact their vengeance for the wrongs committed against them while alive.

Onryō-hime. It was a weighted name, and there was a certain amount of mocking attached to it.

She would make him regret ever giving it to her.

"Thank you," she said.

She didn't bow.

She didn't bow to those beneath her.

Yagura's eyes gleamed and he motioned for his shinobi to part, to let her and Kabuto through. Chiyoko was waiting for them by the winding stairs that led back up, her face pale and tight. The three of them didn't speak until they'd reached the open-air outside the Mizukage Tower, Eri and Jiraiya converging on them immediately.

"What happened?" Jiraiya demanded. "An alarm was set off but they wouldn't let us in, what did you do?"

Sansa felt it was quite unfair that he was directing that question at her. 

"She killed two proctors and insulted the Mizukage to his face," Kabuto answered Jiraiya for her, his tone not changing from light and pleasant. Sansa looked at him, outraged.

"See if I ever save you from torture again!" she said, indignant.

"What!?" Jiraiya hissed.

Sansa grimaced, realising her folly. "I'll explain back at the inn," she said quietly, glancing over at the other teams still lining up.

"Yes you will," Jiraiya said darkly.

Explaining her reaction to the cell to Jiraiya, Eri and her teammates was... awkward. "I have spent an extended amount of time in a similar cell," was the most delicate way she could put it as she was forced to explain her panic in response to the room they'd been taken to, and she could see the dawning understanding on their faces, as well as the fury on Jiraiya's.

"My head was... not in the best place. I didn't realise she was trying to put a genjutsu on me, those don't work well on me, but I heard Hirai-san start screaming and... I reacted mostly on instinct. I tried to get to my teammates, to get them to safety. The proctors got in the way of that. Yakushi-san helped break me out of the panic before the Mizukage arrived. When he did, Yakushi-san explained to him what had happened. The Mizukage said that the test was to see if we would give up our teammates under torture– or at least, if we believed we were being tortured, which was the purpose of the genjutsu."

Eri hissed under her breath. "Of course Kiri would think of something that fucked up," she muttered angrily.

"The Mizukage most graciously decided that my... reaction was a suitable response to the situation," Sansa said delicately. "He said I passed and that we should return to prepare for the next stage of the Exam."

"Of course he did," Jiraiya echoed Eri's words, running his hands through his thick mane of white hair. "Fucking Kiri."

"Then he called her Onryō-hime," Kabuto said, because apparently he was a secret sadist, and Jiraiya's eyes snapped back over to her.

Sansa gave a slight shrug, despite how her chakra seethed, currents twisting and tides churning under her skin. "I've decided to take it as a compliment," she said with a lightness she didn't feel. "It doesn't quite have the same ring to it as 'Legendary Sannin' but I'm going to make them fear it."

Surprising her, Jiraiya nodded. "Own it," he said. "That's what Tsunade, Orochimaru and I did. We fucking hated Hanzo's guts, but we took the title he gave us and we made it our own, made it legendary in truth. You can do the same."

She could. And she would. The Mizukage had named her a wrathful ghost of Uzushio and she would show him just how wrathful she could be. 

"How long until the second part of the exam?" Chiyoko asked softly. The older girl's hands were trembling slightly and Sansa was reminded that Chiyoko, unlike her, had been trapped by the genjutsu that made her believe she was being tortured. A wave of sympathy washed over her; she knew what it was like to be tortured and it only stoked her fury towards Kiri higher, that they'd dared to hurt her teammate like that. 

"It starts tomorrow," Eri said quietly and Chiyoko nodded, looking down, her dark hair hiding her face.

Sansa reached out, laying a gentle hand on Chiyoko's shoulder and pretending she didn't notice when the other girl's breathing hitched, her body shaking with restrained sobs. 

If this was just the first stage of the exams, she couldn't help but think grimly, what were the second and third stages going to be like?

~

The strange-eyed boy was back again as Sansa passed out seals that night. The children had brought her rocks again which she cradled in her palms, emblazoning with a simple seal that would convert the saltwater of the ocean to drinkable water. The children accepted the rocks with badly-hidden delight, even the roughest, oldest, worst-scarred of them.

There was a certain regard in their eyes now as they looked at Sansa, as their fingers brushed against hers when she handed over the seals. It was almost reverent; it made her uncomfortable, even as she smiled at them all, not bothering to hide her sharp teeth behind soft lips.

The boy's strange, dark eyes never left her and before she left to return to the inn, Sansa made sure to meet and hold his stare.

~

The sky was greying with pre-dawn light when they were woken for the second stage of the Chūnin Exams. A Kiri shinobi– not Momochi this time– arrived at their inn to lead them to an outermost corner of the village, to the foot of one of the mountains.

The Mizukage stood there, waiting.

It seemed only the Kumo team had failed the first part of the Exams; the seven Kiri teams, the Iwa team and the Suna team had all gathered, some shivering slightly in the chill.

"Welcome," Yagura said, "to the second stage of the Chūnin Exams." He smiled. It was about as friendly as Sansa's own smiles. There was no warmth in his pale purple eyes. "For this task, imagine you are running a mission in enemy territory. Every team you come into contact with is an enemy that you cannot allow to alert their village of your presence. You will all have a token. If you see and defeat a team, you can take their token. If a team sees and defeats you, they can take your token."

Here, his smile widened. "You may defeat the enemy teams in any manner you see fit. This is a survival exercise. If you survive three days in these mountains, you may return to these gates and you will be allowed through. If you try entering before those three days, you will be turned away. You must have a token at the end of three days to pass this stage."

A Kiri shinobi came around, handing out tokens. Chiyoko accepted theirs with a hand that shook slightly and, as they were waved forwards impatiently, the three of them stepped through the gateway and immediately started running, aiming to put distance between them and the other teams. 

After a solid half hour running they had to slow down, to make a plan for how they would approach this stage of the exam. The temperature had plunged the higher up the mountain they ran and the mist was so thick around them that Sansa could barely see her teammates in front of her.

"Do we keep moving for the three days, or should we find a defensive position to set up a camp?" Chiyoko asked, her face damp with sweat as she heaved for breath.

"I don't think it makes sense to keep moving," Kabuto said, after a moment of contemplation. "The Kiri teams likely know these mountains and we don't. It would be too easy for us to walk into an ambush. We need to choose somewhere we can set up a strong defence and wait the three days out."

"I agree with Yakushi-san," Sansa said and Kabuto smiled slightly, amused.

"I think," he said, "seeing as we could all die horribly in the next three days, you can use our first names." Chiyoko huffed a laugh and nodded so Sansa smiled slightly.

"Then call me Fuyuko," she told them, before turning back to planning. "We have enough supplies to get us through the next three days, so food and water isn't our priority," she said. "Higher ground is, though. I know seals that can help us set up a defensive perimeter once we've chosen a site, but we'll need to set up traps too– I don't know many, do you two?"

"Eri-sensei taught us some," Chiyoko assured her. "She likes using them– I think it's a poison specialist thing." Sansa, remembering their first team training session, winced in agreement.

"Alright," she said, glancing around. "We should keep going for a few more hours, to put some more distance between us and the gate– but after that, we'll set up camp."

"I think," Kabuto said carefully, "we should also discuss what happens if we are attacked."

Sansa didn't even hesitate.

"We kill everyone," she said flatly. "They'll take no prisoners and we can't afford to either," she added bluntly when Chiyoko looked sick. "They're going to be hunting us down. If we leave them alive, they're just going to come after us again. We can't afford to let them."

"She's right," Kabuto told Chiyoko.

"They're going to be coming for us," Sansa repeated, "so let's be ready for them when they do."

~

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Also, if you've ever seen a picture of a payara fish, that's how I'm trying to describe the as of yet unnamed boy's teeth. Those fish eat piranhas, so you know they're badass. 

Thank you everyone for your amazing comments! I read and adore them all xx

Chapter Text

A/N: WARNING – there is a LOT of violence in this one. I cannot understate how much violence there is. I'm going to asterisk *** the REALLY violent part so you can skip it if you want. Anyway, enjoy! xx

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN:

They never got a chance to make a camp.

Sansa only noticed the team when they were minutes out from their location; their chakra blended well with the earth around them, unlike the chakra signatures she was used to.

'Three-hostiles/approaching-fast/hide-run-fight-?' she signed. Chiyoko looked confused, but Kabuto sprang into action, scanning around them, assessing the terrain.

'Country-?' he signed.

'Iwa,' Sansa guessed, judging by the earthy feel to their chakra– she had noticed that Kiri tended towards cutting winds and rough, choppy waves.

Kabuto's mouth thinned. 'No-time-run/fight' he signed and Sansa nodded, arming herself with kunai.

"Someone's coming?" Chiyoko asked, her face almost white it was so pale. Belatedly, Sansa realised she hadn't understood the signs.

"Yes, the Iwa team," Kabuto filled her in, "Fuyuko– tell us when they're sixty seconds out."

Sansa nodded– but in the end, she didn't have a chance to.

Sansa didn't even see what caused the explosion; she just felt her body being thrown into the air before she hit the ground so hard it knocked the breath out of her. Her ears were ringing, she couldn't hear, she couldn't see, her neck was wet and sticky and the world was spinning sickeningly around her as she tried to force herself up, clawing her way to her hands and knees only to be violently sick, her throat burning as she gagged and retched and emptied her stomach of the mixed rice with roe and grilled fish she'd eaten earlier that morning at the inn. Her head felt as if someone had forced a kunai through her ears and her eyes and was twisting them around and around and around–

Still retching and gasping, Sansa slipped forward, her palms scraping against the rocky surface of the ground as she slid from her hands to her elbows. Then, without warning, two hands seized her ankles and she found herself being dragged underground.

Sansa struggled against the grip, panicking as she felt the crush of the earth around her. Its wet, heavy weight was pressing against her eyes, forcing its way up her nose, into her ears. In her desperate struggle, she felt something crunch in her knee, a wet clunk-snap, and she automatically opened her mouth to scream at the flare of white-hot agony that followed, only for damp, heavy soil to force its way down her throat. Desperate, Sansa let seals blaze to life on her palms, bracing herself.

This explosion was at least more contained then the first. It still sent her into the air, but she was out of the suffocating earth at last. Sansa barely managed to roll with her landing, too dazed. The Iwa genin who'd dragged her underground was swearing loudly, staggering about, and she could barely keep her eyes on him as her vision swam in and out of focus. He turned to her and she thought he might have smiled at seeing her state, at how helpless she was in this moment.

Sansa was already reaching for Kurama's scouring, burning chakra, not ready to die without a fight, when the Iwa shinobi choked suddenly, bright blood bubbling at his lips. A moment later, he keeled over, collapsing dead on the ground and revealing Kabuto standing behind him, his gear slightly tattered from the explosion but Kabuto himself still in one piece.

Looking mildly put-out, he walked over and knelt beside her, his hands already glowing green as he pressed them to either side of her head. Sansa almost moaned in relief at the sensation of his slippery-cool-sly chakra sliding along her own, melding almost as perfectly as Naruto's and accelerating the healing the way Kurama's burning chakra did, only without the pain, instead leaving a sort of tingling numbness behind. "They were clearly aiming to take you out," Kabuto said, and Sansa realised she could hear him now. "That explosion was aimed directly for you– they didn't see Chiyoko-chan or I as a threat."

"Their mistake," Sansa murmured hoarsely, because neither of the other two Iwa genin were interrupting Kabuto as he healed her, nor could she feel their chakra. Kabuto's smile was as sharp as the blade of a scalpel.

"Yes, it rather was," he said, moving his hand down to her mangled knee, which bulged oddly under her tight leggings. "You're a sensor," Kabuto said as he carefully rotated the joint into place while Sansa gritted her teeth against the pain, white-hot and agonising, speaking so softly that Chiyoko, several feet away and almost invisible in the thick mist, wouldn't have been able to overhear.

"And you're a liar," Sansa whispered back as slippery-cool-sly chakra melded once more with her own, healing the dislocation even faster than her natural, Kurama-enhanced Uzumaki healing could.

"Like recognises like," Kabuto said lightly, lifting his hands from her skin.

"Yes," Sansa said, sitting up carefully. "Like does recognise like– those hand-signs I used, do you know where I learnt them?"

Kabuto stilled, and there was something dangerous about that stillness, like a snake about to strike.

"You keep my secrets," Sansa said, letting enough of Kurama's chakra slip through to turn her eyes fire-bright and eerie; a threat and a promise, all at once, "and I'll keep yours."

After all, she assumed there would be many people interested in knowing where a seemingly-ordinary genin had learned Root hand-signs well enough to be fluent.

Kabuto stood from his crouch and reached out a hand, a smile flitting across his face. As Sansa took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet, she understood that her offer had been accepted. He would keep her secrets, and in return she would keep his.

At least for now.

Seeing that Sansa was standing, Chiyoko finally rushed over to her. "Are you alright?" The other girl fretted, looking like she wanted to pull Sansa into her arms. Chiyoko's eyes then widened as she looked over Sansa. "How in the– how are your clothes still clean?" she asked incredulously.

Sansa looked down at herself. Her hands were filthy, caked in mud. Her neck, she assumed, was covered in sticky-tacky blood from her bleeding ears, and her face was just as filthy as her hands, but her tunic-dress, her leggings, even her boots, were in as pristine condition as they had been when freshly tailored; not a speck of dirt or drop of blood marred the pure, snowy white.

"Seals," Sansa admitted. "They protect my clothes against damage– everything from fire to dirt to water to blood."

"I'd call it frivolous, except that's likely what protected your internal organs from the explosion," Kabuto said and Sansa half-laughed, half-snorted, a sound that would have horrified her Lady-Mother, should Catelyn Tully have ever heard it. Then again, should Lady Catelyn have ever seen Sansa in the state she was in now, she would probably have passed out in shock– or horror, when she realised her sweet daughter was a murderer.

"Let's go find somewhere to set up our camp," Sansa said, sobering at the thought of Catelyn. "But first–" she swiped her hand over her neck, collecting some of the tacky blood half-dried there, then reached under her flared sleeve to rub the blood against the moon-mark, pushing through a burst of chakra and tugging on the bond in her soul that tied her to her Pack.

In a burst of chakra, Lady appeared, lips already pulled back in a threat, fur bristling as she took in Sansa's state. "You're hurt!" she snarled, the pony-sized wolf swinging her head around to Kabuto and Chiyoko, lips pulling back further from her sharp, dangerous teeth. "Did they hurt you? I'll kill them!"

"They didn't hurt me, they're my team," Sansa rushed to explain, when Lady looked as if she was about to tear into her teammates. "Kita, love, these are Kabuto-kun and Chiyoko-chan, they're my teammates. They both helped save my life."

Lady gave them a suspicious look, then turned to face Sansa, lowering her head so their eyes were level. "You're okay?" she checked, nosing at Sansa's neck and licking at the blood there, the force of which almost knocked Sansa over, leaving her having to grasp onto a handful of Lady's thick fur to stay upright.

"I'm fine, dear heart, I'm fine," Sansa reassured her. "Kabuto-kun healed me, there's nothing wrong now."

"Good," Lady said with a huff.

"But there are other people hunting us," Sansa said, which caused Lady to growl, the sound a deep rumble that echoed, "yes, yes, hush darling," Sansa urged, tapping Lady's nose firmly, "we need you to help guide us, and protect us, can you do that, Kita?"

"Of course," Lady said, giving Sansa's neck a final lick, before turning to the very surprised Kabuto and Chiyoko. "I'll protect you both too, because you're precious to my Fuyuko-chan," she said generously. Kabuto reacted first, bowing to her.

"Thank you, Kita-san," he said, Chiyoko hastily following his example, and Lady looked chuffed at the respect. Sansa hit her lightly on the side of her muzzle, lest she grow a big head.

There was a welcome sense of security that came with having such a large wolf accompanying them, even after being attacked. Sansa, Kabuto and Chiyoko followed Lady's lead as she wove through the thick mist, hunting for a site that matched Kabuto's specifications. Eventually, they found one and while Kabuto and Chiyoko immediately got to work setting up traps, Sansa started to press seals into the trees, Lady guarding her back as she had to wander further away from her teammates in order to set up an early warning system to let them know when any of the other genin were passing close by to their campsite.

The four of them gathered back at the site as the sky turned dark; the mist was too thick for the stars to shine through, leaving them wary of getting lost on the mountain and being unable to find their way back to each other. They didn't dare light a campfire, using Sansa's seals for heat instead, huddling together to choke down the disgusting, flavourless ration bars.

Sansa had used a modified storage seal Mito taught her on her canteen in order to store an excess of fresh water within the much smaller metal container and after drinking her fill she passed around her canteen to the other two, letting them drink greedily. She then used some of the water to try and clean the now dried, caked dirt off her face and hands, hating feeling so filthy.

Letting Lady return to the spirit realm hurt, but Sansa knew even she didn't have an endless supply of chakra and she knew better then to waste it when she would potentially need every last drop over these next three days. Lady looked just as anxious as her, snuffling at her hair and whining piteously before disappearing.

"She is very protective of you," Chiyoko observed. "I thought she was going to eat me, back when you first summoned her."

"You should have seen what she did to Danzo," was Sansa's reply, mostly just to see the lightning-fast smile that flashed across Kabuto's face. In truth, Sansa hadn't summoned Lady to the fight against Root, but Lady had certainly come up with many descriptions over the years of what she'd like to do to Danzo.

"There's lots of rumours, you know," Chiyoko said carefully, "about... about him, and... and what he did. To you, and to other people."

"They're probably all true," Sansa said softly, "or at least, containing an element of truth. Danzo was a complicated man, with a complicated vision of what a strong Konoha looked like. When people... endangered that vision, he had them removed. He committed many reprehensible acts and due to the... sentiment of certain members of government, he was able to get away with it. What happened to me was just one crime amongst many. Only, it wasn't even a crime," here, she smiled bitterly, "because there was never any law against it. And that? That is the worst part of all."

Chiyoko bowed her head and didn't ask any more questions.

Kabuto just looked at her, something she couldn't read in his eyes, his chakra oddly still and just as unreadable.

They shared watch duty amongst themselves that night; two sleeping, while the third kept guard, watching the alert seal that Sansa had set up for any signs that another team was close. There was no activity that first night, nor was there any the following day, but the second night, during Chiyoko's watch, the warning seal lit up a brilliant, blazing red.

Chiyoko had them upright almost immediately; they were already dressed, but they were armed in moments, Sansa reaching out to sense how many were after them. She immediately paled. "There are four teams nearby, all Kiri, all together," she breathed and Kabuto hissed through his teeth while Chiyoko let out a soft cry.

"How many summons do you have?" Kabuto demanded.

"Two that I can bring to a battle," Sansa said, after a moment of thought. Lady was a given and Taiyō was young, but he was older than Lady and eager for a fight, eager to prove himself. The rest, however... Gin, Haya, Katsu and Suki hadn't trained to be in a fight, not the way Lady had, not to mention Sansa honestly didn't know if she had the capacity to summon so many of the wolves– the last time she'd summoned them, it had been after having her chakra sealed for three years so she'd had quite the surplus, not to mention she had to have enough chakra that she could still fight, so she wouldn't be useless.

"How long can you keep them here?" Kabuto pressed and Sansa thinned her lips, thinking. 

"I don't know," she had to admit, "I've never pushed to that point. Until they're injured so badly they have to return, I would guess."

Kabuto nodded. "Do it," he ordered and Sansa nodded too.

"How are you both so calm?" Chiyoko demanded then, her voice edging into hysteria. "There are people trying to kill us!"

Sansa turned to Chiyoko, her eyes narrowing. "You chose to be a shinobi, Chiyoko!" she snapped. "You chose this life, so now you have to live with your choice or die for it! It's either going to be you, or them, so decide now– are you going to curl up and wait to die, or are you going to fight?"

Chiyoko gasped for breath, panic written over her face. "I– I don't want to die!" she choked, unshed tears thick in her petal-pink eyes.

"So don't," Sansa said, lifting a hand to her mouth, to slice into the skin with her sharp teeth, "fight." She swiped her bloody hand against her moon-mark and pulled on her bonds with her pack.

The two wolves appeared in a burst of chakra that would have alerted anyone within five hundred yards of their location; the Kiri teams hunting them would know exactly where they were now. But it didn't matter.

"Hunt," Sansa ordered and her wolves howled as they leapt forwards; their howl was one of rage, of violence; it was a call to hunt and it set Sansa's blood singing, had her taste adrenaline, sharp and hot at the back of her throat, even as she swayed at the drain of her chakra.

Kabuto caught her as she stumbled, his hand firm at her back. "Can you still fight?" he asked her and she nodded, slipping Shion from her sleeve to wield in one hand, a kunai in her other.

"I can still fight," she said, not trying to hide the sudden eagerness in her voice, the edge of something wilder, huskier, ready to spill blood under the silver glow of the moon. Kabuto merely nodded.

"Then let's go," he said.

They arrived at a bloodbath.

***

The four Kiri teams had clearly joined up to take the Konoha team out and the twelve genin fighting against the pair of wolf summons was chaos. Four of the twelve genin were already dead on the ground, torn apart by the wolf summons that had taken them by surprise, and two more had been caught in the traps set up around the camp– one was little more than a shrivelled rag, thanks to Sansa's seals, and one was stuck in place, helpless to Lady's jaws clamping around his throat moments later.

As Sansa watched, however, a pair of twin swordsmen– well, one swordsman and one swordswoman– managed to corner Lady, only for Taiyō to leap in to take the blow in her place, the older wolf disappearing in a blur of pale smoke as the damage inflicted forced him to return to the spirit realm. Sansa cursed, even as her heart thudded in relief that Lady was unharmed. 

Still– half down, half to go.

Kabuto, Chiyoko and Sansa leapt into the fray. Sansa slid under the guard of the closest Kiri genin, one far too used to fighting larger opponents from behind the reach of his sword, and rammed her kunai into his gut, twisting before wrenching it out sideways, sending his entrails spilling; as he fell to his knees, screaming out his agony, she did him the mercy of slitting his throat from ear to ear, splattering her face with blood.

She didn't have time to celebrate her victory; she immediately found herself ducking the swing of a sword, twirling around the slash of deadly iron before slamming her palm against the chest of the one who wielded it. The clone exploded in a burst of water that plastered her hair to her scalp and Sansa cried out as she felt the glancing bite of a sword to her hip, staggering in place, barely avoiding a second strike.

It was the twin swordsmen from earlier, the boy and girl pair who'd taken out Taiyō; Sansa was forced to retreat under their assault of sweeping slashes and long stabs, barely avoiding the blows as they rained coordinated strikes down at her that she had to either dodge or parry with the iron-edge of her tessen. Knowing she didn't have the strength to match the blow of the swords, Sansa held the war-fan in a reverse-grip against her forearm in order to deflect the blades at an angle, using their force against them to slide off the iron edge of her tessen. 

Sansa could feel the deep bruises she was gaining and, crouching to avoid a blow, took the opportunity to throw a kunai at the open-toed sandalled foot of one of her opponents, making him bellow out in pain and stumble, an opening she took ruthless advantage of; a second kunai sunk deep into his throat and he dropped, while his partner let out a scream of fury and came at Sansa in a frenzy, attempting to split her in half from above and only just failing.

Sansa's hands danced through the hand-signs Jiraiya had drilled into her head, pulling the moisture from the air into a whip; it was shaky, but solid enough to lash against the girl's sword-arm, slicing deep into the tendons of her wrist, causing her sword to drop from her grip. But being forced to drop her sword didn't make the girl less dangerous. Sansa tried to get close, to finish the fight, only for the girl to lock her feet with Sansa's own and roll her weight sideways, pulling them both to the ground.

They rolled until the girl's superior height and weight had her pinning Sansa down, her blood-drenched hands moving to Sansa's neck, her grip as unforgiving as steel and so tight that Sansa could feel something grinding in her neck as bright spots burst across her vision as she tried to struggle with limbs that felt heavy as lead.

Distantly, through the roaring in her ears, Sansa heard Lady howl her rage. Moments later, the girl was torn away and Sansa gasped; frantic and ragged, her vision blurring as the pressure suddenly eased. She managed to stagger upright, one hand clutched to her throat, only to watch in horror as the girl who'd had her pinned, who Lady had saved her from, managed to retrieve her sword and, her expression twisted in hate, feinted a perfect low thrust, only to slam the sword up into Lady's tender belly, the bloodied, pointed tip emerging through Lady's back. Already, pristine fur had started soaking crimson.

"Lady!" Sansa howled as Lady disappeared in a burst of light-coloured smoke.

Wildfire poured through her bones, under her skin, flooding her chakra pathways, scorching her heart; Sansa roared through a mouthful of fangs, reaching out with claws, aiming to tear out the throat of the pitiful insect who had dared to hurt Lady, who had wielded steel against her heart, her soul, who had forced her to witness Lady suffer under the blade of a sword once more.

A different insect tried to step before her and Sansa's clawed hand plunged through its gut, clenching a handful of its spine and yanking, breaking it with a crunch, before shoving it aside as she stalked to the frozen insect, pouncing as it tried to run.

Sansa knocked it to the ground, ignored the sword it tried to swing at her, catching the blade with a hand coated in burning chakra, the steel melting to sludge in her grip. The insect tried to scream and she tore into it, her claws ripping through skin and muscle, cracking open bones and shredding organs as her teeth closed around its throat, feeling hot blood flood her mouth as she tore it out with a sharp wrench of her neck.

She left the pitiful insect where it fell, a steaming, stinking mess, turning to the frozen field, all the little insects watching in terror as she stalked forward, eyes fixed on her prey–

***

The wildfire doused suddenly, leaving Sansa swaying, gasping, falling to her knees. She stared down at her hands, dripping with gore, nails sharp and caked with... something... and blinked, confused. The last she remembered was gasping for breath and then–

Lady–

Oh. 

Sansa recognised the aftermath of Kurama's chakra now, the rawness of it, like a sunburn turned inward. She cringed, looking at her bloody hands with new eyes, coated as they were with human viscera.

Her chin was wet.

Her mouth tasted like blood.

Sansa leaned to the side and vomited, chunks of ration-bar mixed with blood that wasn't hers splashing on the rocky ground beside her. She was too afraid to look up, terrified of what her teammates would think of her, clamping her chakra sensing down, not wanting to feel their disgust-horror-panic.

"Do you know how many blood-borne diseases there are that can be transmitted from ingesting blood?" Kabuto's voice broke the silence. Startled, Sansa automatically glanced up at him, only to see he mostly just looked out of breath from the fight they'd just been in. Beside him, Chiyoko was pale and blood-splattered but there was no horror in her eyes and she managed a small smile when Sansa's eyes met hers.

Still, Sansa found herself trying to explain. "Kita has had some... bad experiences with swords before," she said, her voice scratchy but legible. "She was badly hurt, for someone else's pleasure. That's what... triggered me."

"I think triggered is an understatement," Kabuto said, looking past her. Sansa looked over her shoulder and cringed at the still-steaming heap of... of body parts; even amongst the bloody battlefield of mud, blood and bodies, it was... extreme in its sheer animal brutality. "But it helped to save our lives, so I'm not complaining," Kabuto finished, as if that was that. Chiyoko, surprisingly, seemed to agree.

"But now we have a... slight problem," Kabuto said, and Sansa realised for the first time that the three of them weren't the only still-breathing people on the small battlefield– there were also a single living Kiri genin at Kabuto's feet, alive but unconscious. "I helped knock Chiyoko-chan's opponent out while you were, ah, dealing with her teammates," Kabuto explained. "What do we do with her?"

Sansa grimaced. "What we agreed to do at the start of the exam," she said. Chiyoko blanched.

"You mean–?"

"We have to," Sansa said firmly.

She knew Kabuto understood that the Kiri genin had to die. He had to have known, considering their agreement at the start. What she wanted to know was why, then, he'd chosen to keep the girl alive?

Then it hit Sansa.

Oh, that bastard.

Chiyoko's hands were still clean– well, as clean as a shinobi's could be. Even in this fight, she hadn't killed her opponent, hadn't even managed to finish the fight, with Kabuto needing to step in at the end.

Sansa knew what Kabuto wanted to do and she hated it.

But still... she understood and she hated that she did. 

"Chiyoko," she said, hating herself for it, "if we don't kill her, she's just going to come after us again. You should never leave an enemy alive behind you. We need to do this. You need to do this."

Chiyoko blanched, shaking her head wildly. "I can't!" She protested, horrified. "I can't!"

"Are you or are you not a shinobi?" Kabuto asked her, his tone oddly gentle despite the harshness of his words.

Chiyoko was trembling so badly she could barely hold her kunai. "Please," she choked, "I can't!"

Sansa looked her right in the eye. "The one who passes the sentence swings the sword," she said harshly. "If you condemn a man– or woman– to death, you do them the honour of doing the deed yourself. It is what they deserve."

Chiyoko's head swung between them, her eyes wild. Whatever she saw, it had her heaving a gasping breath and moving towards the unconscious genin, her kunai flashing forward. It was a textbook perfect cut, neatly severing both common carotid arteries. A near instant kill. 

It took Chiyoko several minutes to stop shaking so wildly, bent over the body and watching the blood spill, first gushing out in spurts, then slowing to a steady seep. Finally, she straightened. She was bone-pale, but her face was set in a way it hadn't been before. "I'm ready," she said softly.

"Yes," Kabuto said, and he sounded almost proud. "You are."

He felt contemplative. Sansa just felt heavy, knowing that she'd destroyed a child's innocence for the sake of the girl's survival. But Chiyoko would survive. Sansa would make sure of it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from that," she apologised anyway but Chiyoko shook her head.

"No," she said. "You were right. The one who passes the sentence should swing the sword. And... you were right earlier too. I chose to be a shinobi; I chose this life." She smiled down at Sansa, stiff but genuine. "Thank you." She said. 

There was blood on her cheek.

In silence, the three of them had the unpleasant task of searching the twelve bodies for tokens. Not that they needed them, seeing as they still had their own and the Iwa team's. But it would make a point.

Sansa was also considering leaving the dried blood on her, just to make the point of turning up to the gate drenched in blood, bar for her still-pristine white clothes. In the end, though, after they'd collected the four tokens they hunted down a river, braving the icy currents in order to wash the filth off them. Sansa also rinsed her mouth liberally before they returned to their camp, just as the sun started to rise.

They were attacked once more before the end of the third day. It was another Kiri team and Sansa, Kabuto and Chiyoko fought side-by-side against the two who got past the traps; the third, caught by the seals, was already dead on the ground.

Chiyoko fought with a viciousness she had lacked in the last fight; she was a blur of movement, a brace of kunai in each hand– the moment Kabuto's feinted kick at his side distracted the boy she took the chance and jammed one of the kunai through his eye-socket, following through to use the boy's own momentum against him to jam it deep and leaving him shaking wildly on the ground before he went still.

As Chiyoko fought her opponent, Sansa used her tessen on the other genin, this one wielding a half-tanto like those favoured by Root; she used one of the joint-lock techniques Hiromi had taught her, locking the girl's wrist and forcing it to bend unnaturally until it snapped and she was forced to release her tanto. The girl backed up, not spotting Kabuto behind her until too late; she tried to defend, but he merely knocked aside her raised arm to brush his green-glowing fingertips against her chest. She collapsed moments later, blood bubbling from her mouth.

"Chakra scalpels," Kabuto answered Sansa's silent question.

"How the fuck," Chiyoko said, as she stared down at their six blood-soaked tokens, once they'd collected their newest acquisition, "are we not dead."

It wasn't even really a question.

"The favour of the gods," Sansa answered anyway. Kabuto snorted, but Sansa wasn't joking. Their survival at this point was a minor miracle– Inari-sama was watching out for them. Or perhaps it was the nameless, raging gods of Uzushio who stood behind them, eager and hungry to spill Kiri blood.

"We're supposed to be dead," Chiyoko said blankly, apparently more caught up on that fact then either Sansa or Kabuto. "We're not– we're not special; well, you are," she said to Sansa, "but they hate you here. We're supposed to– to die. They sent us here to die, because we're just– just nobodies. How are we alive?"

"Too much spite," Kabuto suggested.

"Most definitely," Sansa agreed.

Chiyoko stared at them both, like she couldn't quite believe they existed, then threw her hands up in the air in defeat, exhausted laughter spilling from her. "I hate you guys so much," she said, and there were tears in her eyes even as her chakra bloomed in affection, warmth and something that lingered close to possessive.

Kabuto looked like he didn't quite know how to deal with Chiyoko's outpouring of emotion but Sansa simply laughed too, reaching out for both her teammates hands and squeezing, letting her chakra brush against both of theirs.

She may not have thought much of having a team originally, but for better or worse they were hers now.

At the end of the third day, as the sun sank in the sky, the three of them finally made their way to the gateway. Yagura was waiting for them, along with a number of Kiri shinobi, Jiraiya and Eri. Yagura's purple eyes gleamed as they approached and Sansa changed her direction slightly, from where the proctor was waiting to receive the tokens, over to the Mizukage instead. Obligingly, Yagura held out a hand and a hushed silence swept over those watching as Sansa dropped six blood-soaked tokens and one pristine into his palm. Their own, and six for the eighteen genin they'd killed.

Sansa didn't say a word, even as Yagura's smile widened, simply turned and walked over to Jiraiya who looked like he wanted to both hug her and strangle her. "I'm dying for a bath," she told him, "and a toothbrush. I need a toothbrush rather desperately. I think I still have bits of that boy's throat stuck in my teeth."

"You," Jiraiya said helplessly as everyone went silent again, "are such a little shit."

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT:

The other kids at the Academy had been giving him funny looks lately.

Naruto was used to getting funny looks. Most of them were mean looks or sometimes scared looks. But these looks... weren't. Ko-ane looked like that sometimes. She called it her 'thinking face'. Naruto wasn't sure why the other kids had thinking faces on when they were looking at him. He didn't know why they weren't being mean like they used to, either. The older kids hadn't called him a monster or a demon or a brat since the day he'd told his class about what happened to Ko-ane. Well, not much, anyway. It made him feel... agitated. He was used to them being mean. He knew how to deal with them being mean. He didn't know how to deal with them not being mean.

He was dragging his feet as he walked into class, because he knew Iruka-sensei was gonna be mad at him. He hadn't gone to the Academy since Ko-ane had left, because he had been sad and just wanted to curl up on her sleeping mat, with his face in her pillow, until Tama-neechan had come and dragged him out to help her scare a man into telling her where he'd hidden his stash by using the burning-fire-red chakra and snarling.

The man had peed his pants and cried a lot, which made Naruto feel a bit bad, but it was "just business" as Tama-neechan said. Tama-neechan had been really happy afterwards and taken him back to Madam Ai's where she made them both ramen and then they curled up together on her mat until he went to sleep and when he woke up she told him she spoke to Kotone-neesan and got permission for him to stay at Madam Ai's until Ko-ane came back.

Naruto loved staying at Madam Ai's. It smelled like perfume and incense, which made his nose itch, but the pretty neesans were all so nice to him and he would help out with their chores in exchange for cuddles, like doing their laundry and helping with their sewing and doing their hair and Momo-neesan had even taught him how to cook!

It was Kotone-neesan who had scolded him for missing so many days of the Academy and gently pushed him into returning, even though he didn't want to. Kotone-neesan was scary sometimes, but in a nice way– a bit like a mother would be, Naruto liked to think.

He slunk into the Academy as the bell rung, flopping down at his desk and wishing he was back at Madam Ai's or with Tama-neechan. Tama-neechan didn't do hugs much, but she gave good hugs when she did and he really wanted a hug right now.

"Naruto," Iruka-sensei said and Naruto's head jerked up as he realised he'd missed his name during roll call. Iruka-sensei was looking exasperated. "Good to see you're back," he said sarcastically and Naruto just shrugged. Iruka-sensei sighed. "Stay behind during break," he ordered before continuing down the roll.

Naruto barely paid attention during the class. His thoughts were spiralling in a way that made his chest feel all tight and heavy, like he couldn't breathe properly. He didn't want to be at the Academy, but he didn't want to let Kotone-neesan down either.

He didn't even notice that it was break time until Iruka-sensei placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched violently, a growl escaping him as he lashed out, attempting to claw at the person who'd dared put their hands on him. Iruka-sensei yanked his hand back in time to avoid getting cut and Naruto realised for the first time his teacher was sitting at the desk beside him. He flushed slightly, ashamed at his complete lack of awareness.

"Sorry sensei," he mumbled.

"It's okay, Naruto-kun," Iruka-sensei said gently, "I shouldn't have tried to touch you without your permission, especially when I could see you weren't paying attention."

Naruto's chest warmed a bit at that, some of the nasty tight, heavy feeling easing away. It felt nice that Iruka-sensei hadn't told him it was bad, how he had reacted. That it was okay.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" Iruka-sensei asked, still speaking gently. "I can see that you're upset."

Naruto hesitated, looking around the classroom. There weren't many people who'd stayed inside. Uchiha Sasuke had, of course; he didn't ever go outside or do anything fun anymore. Not that Naruto blamed him. There were also some civilian kids– Naruto recognised one of them from the orphanage. She always spent breaks studying. Nobody here was the type to spend their time gossiping, so Naruto decided to be honest with Iruka-sensei.

"It's my sister," he admitted. "I'm scared."

"You're scared?" Iruka asked, sounding concerned. Naruto nodded miserably.

"I'm scared she's gonna get hurt," he explained. "She's doing her Chūnin Exams an' she's so far away an' she might even die."

He shuddered at the thought. He didn't know what he'd do if Ko-ane died, but he knew it wouldn't be good.

Iruka-sensei's eyes widened. "Oh Naruto," he said, "can I hug you?"

Naruto thought about it. "Okay," he decided and Iruka-sensei leaned forwards and gently wrapped his arms around him. Naruto sniffled a bit and leaned forward, into the hug.

"If you ever need to talk, you know you can come to me, right?" Iruka-sensei asked gently. Naruto... hadn't known that. But as he thought about it, he nodded slowly. Because Iruka was nice. Iruka never smelled sour. Iruka gave good hugs.

Iruka-sensei eventually let go and Naruto's chest felt less tight and heavy, his breathing coming easier now.

"Your sister, do you think she's strong?" Iruka-sensei asked, and Naruto nodded.

"She's so strong," he told his teacher.

"And she's smart?" Iruka-sensei asked and Naruto nodded even harder.

"She's the smartest ever," he said proudly.

"Then she'll be fine," Iruka-sensei said firmly.

He sounded so sure and Naruto found he could believe him.

Classes were easier after that. Naruto actually paid attention as Iruka-sensei talked about maths, which wasn't very interesting but was still important and really useful when he was trying to figure out how much money to spend on groceries so he had enough left over to buy Ko-ane's special face paints, and when lunchtime came, he actually got up to go outside, instead of moping at his desk. To his surprise, when he climbed up his favourite tree to hide among its branches, away from all the other kids, someone else followed him up.

"Sasuke?" he asked, confused. "Why're you following me?"

Sasuke scowled at him. "How old is your sister?" he demanded. Naruto blinked, confused.

"She's my twin," he said. "She's my age. Actually, she's younger. Not by much! But she's heaps smarter 'n she always took care of me, so I've always called her my big sister."

Sasuke's scowl deepened, his dark eyes furious. "How?" He demanded. "How is she already a genin, if she's our age? How is she competing in the Chūnin Exams already? How is she already so strong and we– and you're so weak and stuck here!?"

Naruto automatically scowled. "Ko-ane didn't ask to be stronger than me!" he snapped. "She didn't even want to be a shinobi! That bastard Danzo made her be a shinobi! It's his fault! He took her and he did horrible things to her and made her do horrible things!"

Sasuke's angered, frustrated scowl had slipped into a muted rage when Naruto said Danzo's name. "You're talking about the Elder," he said, "Shimura– the eye thief."

Naruto felt his own anger rise at the mention of the man who had taken his sister. "He made her strong," he said, a slight growl to his voice, "but he was a bad man– he hurt her. He hurt lots of people."

"The Hokage gave me back the eyes Shimura stole," Sasuke said, and Naruto was slightly alarmed to see that his classmate's eyes looked wet even as they burned with hate. "Or he said he did. I don't even know anymore. I don't know if my father had his eyes stolen, or my mother. I never saw their bodies. They were already– they were already cremated by the time I left the hospital."

Naruto wasn't sure what cremated meant. He wasn't sure why Sasuke was telling him this either. Maybe it was because he was the only one here who wouldn't tell anyone else– or maybe because he'd also had something precious stolen from him by Danzo. Only, it didn't seem fair that Naruto had gotten his sister back and Sasuke would never know if he got all his family's eyeballs back. Even if Naruto didn't really understand why eyeballs were so special. Not that he'd ever say that! Not to Sasuke, anyway. Not when he seemed so upset over them.

"Eyes are– they're sacred to us," Sasuke hissed, and his hands were clenched tight at his side, his dark eyes wet and burning. "They're sacred and my family was murdered and their bodies were violated and now I'll never know if they've passed over peacefully to the Pure Lands!"

Sasuke was trembling with rage and his scent was thick with salt-sour-burning.

"Can I hug you?" Naruto blurted out, remembering how Iruka-sensei had asked first earlier and how he had liked that.

Sasuke looked sort of stunned and unsure but he gave a kind of jerky nod and Naruto leaned forwards on his branch to wrap his arms around his stiff classmate. Sasuke didn't hug him back, but he didn't push him away, just stayed frozen-stiff in his arms.

"C'mon," Naruto decided, when he pulled back from the 'hug', "we're ditchin' class."

"What?" Sasuke asked, his voice a bit scratchy-sounding.

"We're ditchin'," Naruto said firmly. "I gotta take you somewhere. 'Sides, do you really feel like bein' around a buncha people right now?"

From the face Sasuke pulled, he really didn't and when Naruto slid down the trunk of the tree and headed for the front of the Academy, Sasuke only hesitated a moment before following.

Iruka-sensei or Mizuki-sensei didn't spot them, as no angry shouts followed after, and Naruto led the way through Konoha's mid-day crowds, cutting through the back-alleys he knew to be safe, nodding at the occasional dealer or yak he saw when they entered deeper into yak territory. Sasuke looked uneasy but he didn't question Naruto, though there was a clear relief on his face when they left the back alleys, heading out of the village, towards the training grounds.

Naruto led Sasuke along the familiar path, following the winding river until they reached the torri. Sasuke copied the bow-and-clap routine as they made their way up the path, the other boy making a surprised sound as the river curved sharply, revealing the shrine.

Naruto's heart still leapt in his chest when he caught sight of it. The red building with its sloped roof brought back so many happy memories of spending time with Ko-ane and Ka-ane, cleaning it and fixing it back up. It was his favourite place in Konoha, the place that was theirs. It was special.

Sasuke's eyes were wide as they stepped inside the shrine, looking around at all the foxes and flowers on the walls. Naruto always felt like he could breathe a little easier in the shrine. He hoped it helped Sasuke too.

"When I was little," he told his classmate, "people trashed it real bad. 'Cause it's a shrine for Inari-sama and they were super mad 'cause of the Kyuubi Attack. So, me and Ko-ane and Ka-ane, we fixed it. It took ages, but we made it nice again. And now people use it again."

"Are you trying to tell me that even though my clan is practically destroyed now, we can still build up and become strong again?" Sasuke asked bitterly, his face going all closed off. Naruto blinked.

"No?" he said. "Do people tell you that a lot?"

"All the time," Sasuke practically growled.

"Huh," Naruto said. "That seems super shitty of them."

Sasuke snorted, then looked surprised at himself. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it is 'super shitty' of them."

"I just wanted to show you here, 'cause it always makes me feel better when I feel sad or angry," Naruto explained. "That's all."

Sasuke didn't look quite so defensive now.

"...there's a shrine in the Uchiha District," he said quietly. "I haven't visited since..." his voice trailed off. "I didn't see the point," he said eventually. "The gods didn't protect my family. They didn't stop– him. Praying just seems pointless. We worship them and they do nothing."

"I dunno," Naruto said slowly, thinking of Ko-ane's haunted expression as she knelt on the floor of the shrine before Inari-sama, "even if... even if it's bad, I don't think I'd want gods messin' with my life. I think... I think the nicest thing they can do is let us choose. Even when we choose wrong. 'Cause that means we're free."

Sasuke was silent for a long time, his head bowed, and Naruto stayed quiet, knowing better then to try and speak.

"I'm still angry," Sasuke said finally. Naruto nodded sagely.

"I think your gods must be angry too," he said. "I know Uzushio's gods are. And it's been ages."

Sasuke finally looked up, a silent question in his eyes.

"Uzushio was a village where the Uzumaki Clan used ta live," Naruto explained, his throat feeling a bit thick as he thought of what could have been, all of the family that he'd never have. "Before... before Kiri 'n Iwa killed 'em all during the war. And the whole rest of the village. Uzushio's gods, they don't have names and stuff, they're like, the storms 'n the waves 'n everything. But Inari-sama, they said that they're still mad. Real, real mad."

Sasuke didn't look like he knew where to begin. "...your clan was massacred," he said finally. Naruto nodded sadly.

"My mama, she was in Konoha when it happened," he said. "She was safe, even when Kiri 'n Iwa hunted down the survivors. I dunno if there's anyone else. There's none in Konoha."

Sasuke nodded slowly. "That's... super shitty," he said and Naruto actually managed to laugh, reaching out to gently punch Sasuke's shoulder. Sasuke managed a small smile in response.

"...you said that Inari-sama spoke to you," he said next, and Naruto nodded.

"Yeah, they come 'round 'n visit, sometimes. They look like a white fox," he explained, "but they talk. I didn't know they were Inari-sama, when I first met them." He pouted. "They told me their name was Nari."

"And that wasn't enough of a hint, dobe?" Sasuke asked dryly and Naruto gasped in outrage.

"Take that back, teme!" he demanded, lightly shoving the other boy, who smirked at him before his expression shifted again to something more serious.

"Our clan's shrine is dedicated to Amaterasu Omikami," he said and Naruto smiled a bit sheepishly.

"I dunno who that is," he admitted. "I only know Inari-sama, Shinigami-sama and Uzushio's gods." Sasuke looked a little bit like he wanted to call him an idiot, but instead he just explained.

"Amaterasu Omikami's the Sun Goddess," he said, "and the ruler of Takama no Hara, which is where the other gods and spirits live." He then looked a little embarrassed. "Our family has a legend, of how we're descended from Amaterasu Omikami," he mumbled and Naruto's eyes widened.

"Really?" he gasped. "That's so cool! Can you tell me?"

Sasuke's ears pinkened but he looked quietly pleased by Naruto's enthusiasm. "Mother used to tell the stories the best," he said. "As wife of the Clan Head, she was responsible for looking after the shrine and sometimes I'd go with her and she'd tell me about our history. I... I won't be able to tell it like she did."

"That's okay," Naruto said, nudging Sasuke with his shoulder, "you can just tell it like Sasuke does."

Sasuke's ears were still pink as he nodded and cleared his throat. "The legend goes the Sage of Six Paths had two sons, Indra and Ashura," he said. "The Sage crafted the younger son, Ashura, from the land; he carved him from the earth and breathed life into him, creating a connection between his son and all things green and growing.

"To create his elder son, Indra, the Sage reached for the fire of the stars. Amaterasu Omikami, the Goddess of the Sun, the brightest-burning star in the sky, saw his wish for a child and opened her heart to him, letting him craft Indra from the heart of the sun, creating a child birthed by Amaterasu's fire, who went on to found the Uchiha Clan. That is why all Uchiha have a connection to fire."

"That is super cool!" Naruto breathed, wide-eyed. Sasuke looked pleased. "Can we see the shrine?" Naruto begged and Sasuke... flinched. "What's wrong?" Naruto immediately demanded.

"I... I don't think the Clan will be happy to see another ninja around," Sasuke said quietly. Naruto frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked and Sasuke looked away.

"...the Uchiha civilians don't like shinobi," he said stiffly, his shoulders hunched inward, like he was trying to make himself smaller.

Naruto knew what that looked like; he knew how it felt to walk down the street, hunching into himself, trying to look smaller, to hide from the hate and anger and fear surrounding him.

He knew a shinobi had murdered most of the Uchiha Clan. Only the babies who were too young to go to the Academy and the civilian women had been left alive. But they must all be really scared of shinobi now.

And Sasuke, a shinobi-in-training, lived among them.

(Surrounded by their hate and anger and fear)

Sasuke wouldn't want Naruto to feel sorry for him, he knew. Naruto wouldn't have wanted anyone to feel sorry for him either. He still didn't. He'd just wanted things to be different.

(He still did)

"Hey," he said, "wanna come stay at my place tonight? It's super lonely right now, with Ko-ane gone."

Sasuke's head jerked up and he gave Naruto a suspicious look. "Really," Naruto said earnestly, "I hate bein' there all alone. It makes me think of when Ko-ane was gone. I've been stayin' with friends, but I can go back home if you stay with me."

If he made it sound like the other person was doing him a favour, Naruto knew, they were much more likely to agree. Ko-ane had taught him that one.

"Fine," Sasuke said. "But it better not be a mess."

Naruto gasped, mock-offended. "A mess? Me?"

As he chased Sasuke out of the shrine, pausing briefly to clap and bow on his way out, he caught sight of a flash of white fur out of the corner of his eye and he grinned to himself, making sure to send a silent 'thank you' Inari-sama's way, as well as a quick prayer to Amaterasu Omikami, promising he'd look after her child-descendant.

~

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE:

Sansa felt strange, sitting on her bed at the inn that night. While a shower had served to wash away any physical reminders, the three days she'd spent in the mountain couldn't be erased from her mind so easily.

"Do you want to talk?" Jiraiya asked her quietly from the doorway to her room. Sansa hummed softly, thinking, as she braided her fresh-washed hair back from her face.

"No," she decided eventually and Jiraiya nodded, brief disappointment flickering through his chakra, even if it didn't show on his face. 

Still, he hesitated in her doorway, lingering before eventually sighing.

"Goodnight, Fuyuko-chan," he said. "If you need me, I'm one room across." Sansa nodded her acknowledgement and Jiraiya closed the door behind him gently, his quiet footsteps fading.

Sansa tied back her hair then let her hands rest on her lap. She stared down at them. They were so small, so delicate-looking. And yet, so easily had they torn apart other human beings. She closed her eyes, remembering Mito's words; protectors, her ancestress had called Uzushio's shinobi.

Sansa didn't feel like a protector. She felt like a killer.

And once again, she had failed to protect Lady.

Reverse-summoning herself to the spirit realm was nauseating as she remembered, but the moment Sansa found herself in the familiar forest she was already tripping over herself to run to the familiar den Lady and her kin called home.

Tsukiko met her at the entrance to the den, golden eyes gentle. "Oh Sansa," she murmured, bending down to nuzzle her. "Do not fret. Kita is recovering, dear one. It takes more than human steel to take our lives."

"It didn't last time," Sansa whispered, the shame thick in her throat at the memory.

"Perhaps," Tsukiko admitted, a pained edge to her chakra as she was reminded of Lady's past death. "But you have been born anew, daughter of my heart; do not let yourself drown in the memory of old sorrows."

"I didn't want her to get hurt," Sansa choked, "I– I never meant for anyone to get hurt! I never wanted any of this!"

This was never a life she had wanted, had sought. It had been forced on her, violating her very soul as she was forced to fight, to murder, to stain her hands with blood and violence to survive in a brutal world.

Sansa broke down then; Tsukiko a gentle, supportive presence beside her as she shattered, sobbing for the lives she'd been forced to take, the life she was forced to live. "You are so strong, Sansa," Tsukiko rumbled as Sansa wept into her thick fur. "You carry within you the best parts of the Starks and the Uzumaki. There is a force within you that cannot be denied and one day, you will once more know the peace you seek."

"Do you truly believe that?" Sansa begged for reassurance, lifting her tear-stained face up to the great wolf's. Tsukiko's large golden eyes met her own, solemn and proud.

"I do," she said and Sansa breathed in, let Tsukiko's faith lend her the strength that grief and sorrow had stolen from her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Anytime, my cub," Tsukiko rumbled and Sansa carefully dabbed at her eyes, wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

"May I see Kita?" she asked and Tsukiko leaned forward to nuzzle her again.

"Of course," the she-wolf said. "I would not dare to keep you apart."

Walking into the den and seeing Lady there lifted a weight from Sansa's heart. Her precious other-half seemed peaceful in her sleep and the terrible battle wound did not look quite so terrible now, half-healed and still knitting itself back together, the blood washed away from her fair fur. Sansa pressed kisses to Lady's sleeping face, pretending there were no fresh tears seeping into the soft fur there, before bidding Tsukiko farewell and much gratitude for all her aid and finally returning to the inn.

Sitting alone on her bed, tears still damp on her face, Sansa suddenly wanted nothing more than to breathe fresh air. It was harder to slip out unnoticed now; in the aftermath of the slaughter of the second stage, she could sense how the patrol around the inn had increased. Sansa's skills as a sensor were put to the test as she took care to slip unnoticed around the patrolling ANBU and make her way to Kiri's more run down streets.

When she arrived at the street she had handed out seals, three days ago now, she almost wasn't surprised when the strange-eyed boy was the first to sidle out of the shadows to meet her. The street children that followed after him were mostly ones Sansa had met before; they already had stones in hand and Sansa set to work, marking the stones with seals that would provide a radiating heat when activated by a smear of blood, becoming inert when the blood was washed away.

Sansa was careful to stress to the children the danger of letting any shinobi see the seals. They laughed at her, and Sansa knew why; they already knew the danger of shinobi, knew their cruelty, their disregard of life. They would not be so careless.

After the children had all left and Sansa was left standing in the filthy street, exhausted but satisfied, the strange-eyed boy approached her at last.

"Those seals you make," he said, those strange eyes of his boring into hers as he spoke to her for the first time, "they do more than little tricks for children."

"They do," Sansa confirmed.

"I hear things, Uzu," he said, strange eyes gleaming as he leaned in. "Team Four– Team Death, they call you. And you, Onryō-hime– they whisper that you are Uzushio's vengeance, a drowned Princess of the Whirlpools risen again to haunt us for our sins."

Sansa laughed, unable to stop herself. "You make me sound so terrifying," she said.

"To them, for what you represent, you are," the boy countered, and he smiled at her, a sharp slice of vicious, predator teeth. 

"You weren't born on the streets, were you," Sansa said, more than asked; he spoke too well, knew too much. This time the boy laughed.

"No more than you, princess," he said, "but there comes a time when every king loses his crown."

"The bloodline massacres," Sansa murmured and the boy dipped his chin mockingly even as his eyes went flat and cold with an old, heavy rage that Sansa knew well.

"Do you know what they say about Uzushio?" the boy asked her, almost conversationally.

"They say many things," Sansa replied and the boy looked at her, strange-eyes boring into hers.

"Yes– but one of the most... persistant rumours is that they say it was an Uzumaki from Uzushio who was first to seal the Tailed Beasts," he said, low and fervent, and Sansa... stilled.

"If they could do that," the boy said, and his voice was almost feverish now, his hands coming up to grip onto Sansa's forearms; there was webbing between his fingers, all the way up to the second knuckle. "If they could do that, then surely they would know how to break the seals holding back the Tailed Beasts."

Sansa's breath caught in her throat as the boy leaned forwards, so close that his breath brushed against her face. "Can't you feel it?" he breathed, his strange eyes gleaming. "There's a revolution coming."

"It's not that simple," Sansa whispered, knowing what he was asking of her.

"Make it that simple," the boy urged, his hands tightening. "You can, you can." 

Sansa looked over at him, her eyes meeting his, and she exhaled. "I– I need a moment. Don't let anyone kill me," she ordered him, before sinking down to her knees and letting herself fall into her mindscape.

Standing amidst the weirwoods, with the foxfire dancing along pale branches, flickering between the deep red leaves, Sansa took a moment to breathe before walking over to activate the seal that would release Mito's chakra imprint.

"Is it possible?" She asked, once she had both Mito and Kurama before her and she had explained to them the boy's request of her to release Kurama's sibling from their prison inside Yagura.

"I don't know," Mito admitted, troubled. "The only incident where I've heard of a Jinchūriki seal been broken by an enemy force that doesn't involve the death of the Jinchūriki was what you've told me of the attack on Kushina," here, Mito turned to Kurama. "Do you remember anything of how you were torn from Kushina?" she asked.

"The seal was weakened, because of the strain of childbirth," Kurama rumbled, their eyes sharp with keen interest. "It was already breaking apart when the Uchiha took Kushina and entered her mindscape to place me under a genjutsu so I was under his control. My memories after that are... disjointed and blurred, but I do remember overwhelming what was left of the seal and forcing my way out." 

"But why does childbirth weaken the seal?" Sansa asked, frowning. It was Mito who answered.

"Childbirth leaves a woman both physically and mentally exhausted, in a way very little else does," she explained, "chakra is a combination of yin and yang energy– power of the mind and power of the body– and childbirth weakens both mind and body. The seal is at its weakest after the strain of childbirth because a host is so weakened."

"So that isn't an option for us," Sansa said, grimacing at the memory of the wars she'd waged on the birthing bed; battling the pain wracking through her body, screaming as it felt as if she was being torn apart and fighting through the terrible exhaustion in order to push her children into the world.

"...isn't it?" Mito murmured suddenly and Sansa looked at her ancestress, a touch bewildered.

"The last I checked, Karatachi Yagura was a man," she said. "And I'm fairly certain he wasn't pregnant." 

"Yes," Mito agreed, her eyes glittering, "but there are women in Kiri who are pregnant. Have you ever heard of ninshū, Sansa?"

"No," Sansa said slowly and Mito smiled, deadly and beautiful even as Kurama tilted their head back and laughed with genuine mirth, the sound terrifying as it echoed around the mindscape.

"Uzushio's history," Mito explained to her, "tells us that before chakra was weaponised into ninjutsu, it was intended to connect people's inner spiritual energies, to allow them to understand each other without communication. It was a practice called 'ninshū'." Here, Mito's smile widened. "Uzumaki are natural sensors," she said, "ninshū was easy for us– you must notice how easy it is for you to reach out with your chakra and feel other people's emotions?" When Sansa nodded slowly Mito continued. "Not everyone in Uzushio was able to connect with others so easily– those who did not use chakra, in particular, were unable. So there were seals created– to assist in that connection."

And Sansa– Sansa finally realised what Mito was proposing. Her eyes widened.

"You want to use seals to connect Karatachi to a woman in labour in order to weaken the seal?" she asked, stunned.

Mito looked vicious in her satisfaction. "I think," she said, "it should be possible to link his chakra to that of a number of women who have been induced to be in labour simultaneously, if these rebels time their revolution right– and while his spiritual energy, his Yin-chakra, is being attacked through the seal anchoring him to the childbirth, the rebels can attack him in order to weaken his physical energy, his Yang-chakra, through battle in a two-pronged assault. Together, it should weaken the Jinchūriki seal enough that the Bijuu inside him can break free." As Sansa stared at Mito, in awe of her wicked genius, Mito's smile faded. "There is, however, the small issue of the anchoring seal," she said. "You will have to be the one to apply it to Karatachi, Sansa."

Sansa's face set, determination stirring within her. "I'll figure it out," she vowed. "I promised Kurama, that I would free their siblings, and I meant it."  

"I know," Kurama rumbled. "And I trust you."

Sansa couldn't help the soft sound she made, looking up at them with wide eyes; for beings like them, a declaration of trust was a far weightier thing than one of love. Love could be fleeting, ever-changing, could burn hot and bright, there and gone in a moment, but trust– trust was something built sturdy, built to last.

"I trust you too," she told Kurama; honest, warm.

"Now," Mito said, her eyes having softened as she gazed over at them both, "let me teach you the anchoring seal."

~

When Sansa left the mindscape she was still in the same street, the boy standing over her. She pushed herself back to her feet and met his strange eyes calmly. "I know of a way to break the Mizukage's seal," she said and his eyes gleamed with vicious glee. And when she explained to him the plan, he tipped his head back and laughed.

"It is ironic, is it not?" The boy said, mirthful. "That he rises to power by taking so many lives from this world and he falls from power through new lives being brought into the world."

"You can organise it with your people?" Sansa asked, not doubting the boy had connections to the rebels. The boy practically bared his hooked teeth at her.

"So long as you get your seal on the bastard," he said.

"I will," Sansa vowed and the boy nodded.

"Then I will," he echoed.

Sansa still had the special chakra-conducting paper Jiraiya had bought her stored in the storage seal in her arm and it was on this paper that she carefully applied the seals that would need to be placed on the labouring women, knowing that there was no room for error as she carefully shaped her chakra under her palm before letting it flare, a muted blue, onto the paper. At the boy's insistence, she made twenty-five of the seals and he tucked them away, his strange eyes bright with victory.

"You know," Sansa said conversationally, "I still don't know your name." The boy grinned at her, sharp.

"Well, Uzu," he said, "how about you call me Ki."

"Ki it is," Sansa said graciously, as it was better than nothing at all– and truly, it was only fair.

"We're depending on you," Ki warned and Sansa nodded.

"I won't let you down," she said quietly as Ki disappeared into the shadows. 

~

As morning dawned on the final day of the Chūnin Exams the rising sun illuminated the mist shrouding the village of Kiri an eerie red. It was an omen, Sansa thought grimly to herself, of dark things to come.

Jiraiya gathered her, Kabuto and Chiyoko after breakfast, his face just as grim as her thoughts.

"Out of all the contestants that went into the second stage, there are twelve of you left," he said. "The final stage of the Chūnin Exams is always one-on-one matches. You could be fighting anyone today, even each other."

"What do we do, if we are fighting each other?" Chiyoko asked nervously.

"You remember who you are," Jiraiya said firmly. "You're shinobi of Konoha. You're teammates. You give it your best effort, but at the end of the match you help each other back to your feet."

They all nodded and Jiraiya sighed. "Look," he said, "the others will be coming at you hard. Kiri especially. The people you killed, they knew them. They probably liked them. They might have even been friends. And now? Now they're going to want to make you pay. So when you get out there, you'll be fighting for your lives."

"We know," Chiyoko said, a steely look on her face. "We've been fighting for our lives since the start."

She didn't say that Konoha had sent them to Kiri, knowing their lives would be in danger– but her eyes were hard as they met Jiraiya's and Jiraiya nodded; it was clear that he heard what she wasn't saying, but like her he wasn't going to acknowledge it. Not out loud. 

"As long as you understand," he said instead. "Good luck out there today, kids."

He didn't say 'you'll need it' but the sentiment was there.

Sansa dressed slowly, reluctantly. Her hands were stiff and jerky with nerves and her fingers stumbled over her careful styling of her hair. She was wearing it in a traditional style for nobles of the Elemental Nations; a high-piled bun, secured with about a hundred hidden pins, the antler combs and the kanzashi that had been a gift from a past Shogun to an Empress of Uzushio– a kanzashi that was as much a weapon as it was a hairpiece. 

She carefully painted her face, knowing there would be visitors to Kiri in attendance, coming to watch the last stage of the Chūnin Exams– guests, such as nobles from the Water Daimyō's court who would understand what it meant that she had red hair, wielded seals and wore Uzushio's spiral proudly on her forehead. They might even recognise the kanzashi– she could only hope.

When she met Jiraiya down at the entrance to the inn, there was something wistful about his expression, a twist of nostalgia and old, stale grief to his chakra as he gazed down at her. "You're something special, Uzumaki Fuyuko," he murmured.

Sansa could have said many things there. She could have said something cutting, could have commented on how Jiraiya would have known that, had he ever been around, could have brought up Danzo, or the Hokage, or any number of ways Konoha had failed her and Naruto. He was almost expecting it, she could tell, already bracing himself for the harsh lashing of her tongue.

But Sansa said nothing. She just nodded and waited silently with him for the rest of her team to arrive.

~

The stadium for the final stage of the Chūnin Exams reminded Sansa of a mix of a tourney grounds and the dragonpit at Kings Landing. It was built of stone, the stands encircling the grounds where children would battle, the seating growing progressively higher the further back it was from the arena at the centre.

The Mizukage and his guards were set apart from the crowds and Sansa didn't miss how purple eyes tracked her progress through the stadium, over to where the Chūnin hopefuls were gathered.

They were read the rules by a proctor. It wasn't complicated; they fought until their opponent yielded or was unable to fight any longer. Nothing was outright forbidden in a fight, other than starting before the proctor said to start, and continuing after the opponent yielded or the proctor finished the match.

Sansa's first match was against one of the Suna nin and it was a third match of the day. By the time her name was called, her anxiety was a living, twisted thing inside her gut and she was almost relieved to step out into the arena, to face the Suna nin– a puppeteer.

Sansa didn't like the look of her opponent's puppet. It was disturbingly life-like and if not for her ability to sense chakra, Sansa would not be able to tell it wasn't alive and instead made of wood and steel.

"Match start!" Called the announcer and Sansa was forced to use her tessen to defend against a barrage of kunai, knocking them away from her. She then leapt up, twisting in mid-air to dodge the puppet which had rushed towards her and landing on its shoulders, using it as a springboard to launch herself towards the puppet mistress.

The Suna genin defended herself, meeting Sansa's attack with a kick that connected with her forearm, numbing her entire hand and knocking the tessen from her grip. Swearing, Sansa retreated slightly, her healing working overtime as she darted around the Suna nin, attempting to strike while the Suna nin was careful not to let Sansa's hands touch her.

Sansa was so focused on her opponent, she almost missed the puppet's approach behind her, dropping just in time to avoid a blow to the head, rolling and darting back to her feet as the Suna nin scowled at her, hands glowing blue with chakra strings. Suddenly, the puppet shot forwards, gleaming inch-long spikes shooting out of every surface of its body. Sansa had no doubt the spikes were poisoned and had a split-second to debate the risk of if her body was inoculated against the poison or not before dropping low and sliding beneath the puppet, rushing to focus her chakra as she did so, moving her hands in the correct signs for the water-bullet jutsu.

The distraction of the water bullets wasn't enough for the Suna nin to cut off her chakra strings– but it did take her attention away from Sansa's hands long enough for Sansa to send a senbon at her neck with the perfect accuracy Kaeru had trained into her, sending her opponent dropping to the ground at the same time as her puppet crumpled, the chakra strings suddenly cut off as the Suna genin found herself paralysed.

Standing back up, Sansa shook out her still partially-numb hand, which was at least starting to tingle, and looked over to the announcer. "Uzumaki Fuyuko wins!" he called and Sansa didn't bother to retrieve her senbon from the girl's neck, instead leaving her to the medics to sort as she went to collect Shion before making her way back over to the stands.

"Wonderful show of sportsmanship," Jiraiya grumbled at her. "Konoha's supposed to be the nice village."

"Your congratulations are acknowledged and appreciated," Sansa replied, not even bothering to look at him.

She didn't have time to for 'nice'.

She had fights to win and a Kage to fool.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTY:

The fights grew progressively more violent as the competition continued. Sansa's second round was against a Kiri genin, this one wielding the Elemental Nation's version of a mace, a chigiriki; a long, hollow metal staff with a weight attached to a chain at the top.

Sansa couldn't get close to him, the reach of the chigiriki was too long. When he brought the weight down at her, she rolled to the side, feeling the wind on the nape of her neck as she stood up again, jerking her head back and barely avoiding a backlash that could have cracked her skull.

She dodged again and when he brought the chigiriki sideways she knelt at the last moment, feeling it pass above her before darting back to her feet, desperately eyeing the heavy weight at the end of the chain; she couldn't block it, couldn't re-direct any blows from it, and both she and her opponent knew it.

Sansa cursed under her breath as he rushed her again; her hands danced through the handsigns, pulling moisture from the air to send a barrage of lethally aimed water-needles at her opponent, managing to puncture one of the genin's eyes. He screamed in pain and rage, charging at her, trying to pummel her face in and missing by a hair's breadth.

Sansa held her hands out before her, seals forming on her palms that flared with a burst of bright light. With his already-injured eye, this caused the boy to howl in pain, staggering back and Sansa took advantage of this to dart forwards and stab a kunai through his femoral artery before immediately getting back out of the reach of the chigiriki swung wildly at her.

The kunai didn't kill him, as she had left it buried deep in his thigh instead of pulling it out, but he couldn't fight, not without bleeding to death, and he was forced to yield in order to be healed– and judging by the hate in his one good eye, that was even more humiliating than a straight-up loss.

Kabuto forfeited his second round, despite winning the first against one of the Suna genin, having healed himself of their poison senbon mid-battle and severing the tendons in their ankles with his chakra scalpels. "I don't feel ready to become a chūnin," he explained to Jiraiya and Eri, "not after our experience in the second stage of the Exams."

Chiyoko looked like she believed that about as much as Sansa did, but neither of them called Kabuto out on it in front of the two adults.

Chiyoko had also made it to the second rounds and it looked like she would make it to the third when the Kiri genin she was fighting got in a lucky blow to her head and, while she was dazed, nearly hacked her in half with his sword, leaving her blood spilling across the arena as the Kiri shinobi in the stands cheered and Sansa watched on in sickened horror.

Jiraiya and Kabuto literally had to jump into the arena to grab Chiyoko before the Kiri genin could finish her off, Jiraiya catching the genin's blade as it swung down while Kabuto's hands were already glowing green as he held Chiyoko's intestines inside her with one hand, his other hand pressing over her face, abruptly cutting off her screaming.

Sansa hastened to follow after them, her heart thudding as she watched how Chiyoko stared fixedly at the sky, eyelids fluttering wildly as her whole body shook. Sansa placed a trembling hand on her teammate's neck, only to feel a sluggish, haphazard pulse under her fingers, and as Chiyoko was moved onto a stretcher, her shaking slowly eased as her eyes gradually stopped their constant movement. Sansa felt as if she had been plunged in ice and she watched with building rage as Chiyoko was carried off, Kabuto kneeling over her on the stretcher, holding her together.

When her name was called next, for the first time since the start of the exam Sansa was eager to fight, eager to shed blood. Old Gods forgive her, she felt as if she could murder every single person in the stadium with her bare hands alone. Only, to Sansa's building rage, she was told that with the uneven number of participants, she had automatically been advanced to the next round– the final round. Sansa didn't believe for a moment that the 'random selection' was at all a coincidence, but she didn't even care. Instead, she spun around and stormed out of the stadium, needing a moment to gather herself.

Wandering the grim, empty streets, trying to calm her breathing, Sansa almost wasn't surprised to run into Momochi, though she was surprised to see a child walking with him, as he didn't seem to be the paternal type. She was even more surprised to feel a spark of her own chakra carried upon the child– somewhere on their person was one of her seals.

She didn't recognise the child– and she would have, if she'd seen them before. They were waifish, appearing about Sansa's age, though with how thin they were they could easily be older. Their long hair made it difficult for Sansa to tell if they were a girl or boy and they carried themselves like a skittish animal, terrified of being beaten– if Sansa couldn't feel the adoration the child felt towards Momochi in the way their unique, icy chakra reached for Momochi's roiling, churning waves, she'd be attempting to attack the older shinobi, damn the consequences.

"Don't tell me you're out already!" Groaned Momochi, apparently having spotted her too. "Fucking shit, I bet a stack on you– I thought for sure you had this, after you practically slaughtered your way through the second stage! Reminded me of my graduation– the good old days," he leered, even as his chakra twisted in old pain-regret-loss-grief.

"To be fair," Sansa said with a calm she didn't feel, "they attacked me first." She bared her sharp teeth at Momochi in a wolf's smile; predatory, hungry, vicious. "They just bit off more than they could chew."

Momochi howled with laughter. "Damn girl!" he said, and even his little shadow was smiling slightly.

"I'm Uzumaki Fuyuko," Sansa introduced herself, bowing to the waif. They looked back at her with keen eyes, icy chakra twisting with interest– the child obviously knew of Sansa by the reputation she'd gained amongst the children of the streets, though Momochi didn't.

At least not yet.

Momochi clapped a hand on the child's shoulder, grinning at her under his bandages. "This is Haku," he introduced. "I'm Momochi Zabuza, wielder of Kubikiribōchō."

"You're one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist," Sansa realised and Momochi's chakra flared with pride.

"You bet your ass I am," he said, reaching back to fondly pat the giant sword on his back– Kubikiribōchō, she assumed. "Now, who the fuck did you lose to? I want to know how much money you fucking lost me."

"I didn't lose," Sansa said, her agitation returning at the memory of Chiyoko and her terrible injury. "I'm in the final round."

"Thank fuck," Momochi sighed and Sansa wanted to roll her eyes.

"I should probably return now," she murmured. "The match before the final should be finished soon. I wouldn't want to be late."

"It'd be funny, though," Momochi said.

"It would look like I was running away," Sansa corrected, "like I was scared." She bared her teeth. "I'm not. They should be scared of me."

"Oh, believe me, Onryō-hime," Momochi said, and there was something darkly amused in his voice now, "they are."

Momochi and Haku walked with her back to the stadium before parting ways with her; Momochi with a hearty pat on the back and Haku with a soft, murmured, "good luck, Uzu-chan," before the pair disappeared into the crowds while she left to find her team. 

Jiraiya was the only one waiting for her. There was dried blood on his green kimono and when she gave him a questioning look he only sighed. "It could go either way," he admitted. "Kabuto-kun's good– he's very good, I don't know why he hasn't been promoted before this, and there's no doubt he won't be getting a field promotion after it, but it's not looking good."

Sansa's mouth thinned as she nodded, not trusting herself to speak in this instance.

Oh, she understood why Chiyoko had been hurt. They had killed a number of Kiri genin during the exams– though always in retaliation, never as the aggressors– and the Kiri genin were never going to go easy on them. That didn't mean that Sansa wasn't coldly furious that her teammate had been injured. That Chiyoko could die.

Yagura stood suddenly and the attention of the stadium turned to him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, and there was something smooth and captivating about his voice as he spoke, "we have all gathered here today to witness as our green genin grow from children to true shinobi. We have seen spirit, determination, courage, skill, fearlessness and more today. We are proud of our youth. We are proud of what they have become and what they will go on to be. And now we have reached the final round, the final test.

"To be a shinobi is to have the ultimate conviction," the Mizukage said, his eyes glittering as they met Sansa's across the stadium. "Without it, a shinobi is nothing but a corpse in the ground. If our final competitors wish to win the final round, they must fight with the ultimate conviction. Forfeit is not an option. Yielding is not an option. To be a shinobi is to fight and live another day, or to die. Only one will stand at the end of this final round."

Sansa looked up at Jiraiya in horror. "Can he do that?" she demanded in a hissed whisper.

Jiraiya looked furious. "Yes and no," he said through gritted teeth. "You can refuse. But–"

"It will bring disgrace," Sansa finished for him. "To Konoha– and to Uzushio, considering I have made my allegiance there quite clear."

She looked across at her competition; he was twice as tall as her, about three times thicker and wielding a sword that easily dwarfed her.

"Your life is worth more than any dishonour refusing to fight will bring," Jiraiya said firmly, but Sansa shook her head.

"I am the last Princess of the Whirlpools," she said fiercely. "I have a duty to my family, to my lost clan and to any people of Uzushio who still draw breath."

"You have a duty to die for them?" Jiraiya demanded and Sansa looked up at him with burning eyes.

"No," she said, pressing the tessen that Mamoru made her into his hand, "I have a duty to be seen– still here, still fighting."

She reached out, reaching for Jiraiya's free hand with her own and squeezing lightly. "Don't worry," she told him, "I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve."

Jiraiya, looking a bit stunned that she had willingly touched him, didn't think to stop her as she stepped forwards, making her way down into the arena of the stadium, the weight of hundreds of eyes on her back. It felt different this time then it had in the two previous fights. The weight felt heavier with the stakes now higher.

Sansa stopped on the opposite side of the arena from her opponent. She brushed her hand against her forearm, the seal there lighting up golden and Uzushio's tessen appeared. A snap of Sansa's wrist and it opened, revealing for the world the raging ocean storm it contained.

The stands went silent.

Those gathered to watch children slaughter and be slaughtered recognised what she held, the long-lost relic, the legacy of Uzushio, and she could feel how it frightened them.

"B-Begin," stammered the proctor as he practically fled the arena and Sansa let her chakra flow into the seals woven into the tessen, could feel the swell in the air as she fed more and more of her chakra into the tessen, reached for Kurama's burning chakra and started to feed that in too.

The previously grinning Kiri genin across from her had turned white.

(She would feel worse about this if he hadn't been so gleeful about cutting down what he thought was a seven-year-old child moments ago)

Sansa could feel the might of the ocean so close by, could feel its pull and urged it to come, urged it to heed her call, Uzushio's call.

Her opponent tried to flee. He wasn't fast enough.

He tried to fight. He wasn't strong enough.

Nobody could fight the might of the ocean.

Nobody could escape its hungry maw.

The tidal wave slammed into the stadium, the stands, flooding into the arena, sweeping up shinobi, spectators and her opponent alike. Sansa stood, protected, as the rage of the ocean churned and pounded, tearing apart the hated arena until she had to cut it off, had to let the tides drain back.

Her skin burned, from the inside out. Sansa felt as if she was on fire– and she had once burned alive. She knew what it felt like and Sansa wanted to scream.

She kept the pain from her face the best she could, standing tall as the people in the stands staggered their way to their feet, shaken, drenched, bruised and in some cases broken; civilians were wailing, others crying.

Across from her in the arena her opponent laid still on the ground, his eyes glassy; drowned.

Sansa felt nothing. Her eyes were on the Mizukage, the only one who had stood against the might of Uzushio, as untouched by the ocean's rage as she herself.

He stared back at her, amidst the ruins of his stadium.

Sansa felt Jiraiya's hand on her back a moment later and she almost screamed at the pain it caused.

"Let's go," he said, low and urgent.

"Wait," Yagura said, moving forwards. Jiraiya stiffened but Yagura just smiled. "Onryō-hime won. Surely she deserves a congratulations, at the very least," he said.

Jiraiya looked stiff, his eyes darted briefly around the ruined arena, but Yagura just laughed lightly.

"Oh, this was just temporary. We expected it to get damaged. Albeit, not to this extent, but still. Such an impressive performance deserves all the proper ceremony, don't you think?"

"She has to see a medic first," Jiraiya said finally and Yagura nodded.

"Of course," he said, waving a careless hand and Jiraiya didn't waste a moment to pick Sansa up and run.

Sansa bit her lip so hard to stop from screaming that she tasted blood, her sharp teeth slicing straight through, shredding the flesh.

She passed out some time between being carried and being placed in her bed at the inn.

"–scoured her chakra pathways– damage is–" she heard Kabuto saying, and she blinked blearily at him, but he saw she was awake and tapped her head with a green-glowing hand, sending her back to unconsciousness.

She woke in her mindscape.

Blinking fuzzily around, Sansa groaned. The trees around her looked charred, their pale trunks blackened, and instead of snow the ground beneath her was ash.

"What– happened?" She managed to ask.

"You," Kurama said, in a dark voice as they loomed above her in their cage of weirwood branches, "almost killed yourself, that's what happened."

"What-?" Sansa asked, confused and still bleary as she staggered forwards, somehow managing to slip between the branches so she could get into the cage. Once inside, she immediately fell into Kurama's fur. They must not have been too upset, because they allowed her to cling to them.

"It wasn't entirely your fault," they allowed. "That tessen isn't meant for children to wield, and for good reason. If it wasn't for me, you would have died of chakra exhaustion. As it is, you channelled so much of my chakra you burned your chakra pathways quite extensively."

"...oh," Sansa said, still a bit dazed and distant.

"It didn't help that you also channelled quite a bit of my chakra two days ago," Kurama said and they sounded almost guilty this time. "You were rather... enraged at the time. Stopping you accessing my chakra then was– difficult."

Sansa, remembering how Kurama's chakra had cut off suddenly during her rampage after Lady's stabbing, winced. "That was not my finest moment," she said. "Thank you, Kurama."

"...yes, well..." Kurama didn't seem to quite know what to say, just as they always did when Sansa thanked them after they'd done something genuinely nice.

"Jiraiya is going to throw a fit when I wake up," Sansa sighed. "I'll probably deserve it too."

"You couldn't have foreseen what would happen when you used the tessen," Kurama pointed out. "And once you started channelling chakra, it wasn't that you chose not to stop, you couldn't stop. It is... an old weapon. And powerful."

Kurama tilted their head. "They're ready to wake you up now," they informed her.

"Wish me luck," Sansa sighed.

"Good luck," Kurama said, darkly amused.

The godswood faded around her and Sansa blinked, finding herself back in the inn, lying in her bed there. Kabuto was leaning over her.

"Ah, good, you're awake," he said, in a pleasant sort of voice.

"Excellent," a further back voice said, "that means we can discuss what a phenomenally stupid attempt to die horribly that was!"

Jiraiya glared down at her over Kabuto's shoulder, looking particularly enraged.

"In my defence," Sansa said, feeling drained and not up to arguing, "I wasn't quite informed that it would do that."

"'That' being almost cause an international incident in a foreign country by nearly drowning half the Water Daimyō's court, the Mizukage, and Kiri's shinobi forces, and destroying part of a foreign village?" Jiraiya asked.

"I suppose 'they did it first' isn't the appropriate defence here?" Sansa mused. "Nevertheless, I would like to point out that it wasn't actually against the rules of the third stage of the Chūnin Exams. And I only killed one person– the person I was supposed to kill."

"You could have started a war," Jiraiya stressed.

"Kiri doesn't have the resources to go to war," Sansa said with a scoff, "they're hiding it well enough, but they're still in the midst of their civil war and it's drained them dry. Their killing squads are hunting bloodline clans while rebels hide in the mountains, except for when they come out to fight the killing squads and the Mizukage's forces. 

"Meanwhile, civilians are getting caught in the crossfire between the killing squads and the rebels and getting killed, and their farmland and livelihoods are being destroyed– Kiri literally cannot afford a war with another village, not with all the in-fighting. Armies can't march on empty stomachs. Kiri only hosted the Chūnin Exams because they are desperate for money."

Jiraiya stared at her. So did Kabuto. Sansa absently noticed that neither Eri or Chiyoko was in the room– she guessed Chiyoko was still bed-bound (she refused to consider any alternative) and Eri was sitting with her.

"How do you know that?" Jiraiya asked finally.

"Mostly from Danzo," Sansa said, which wasn't an entire lie– Danzo had mentioned the Kiri situation a time or two. "But also from observations–" warging– "and conversations I've had with the street kids around here– I didn't get caught, don't panic; I know how to be discrete."

"Kiri is notoriously closed off, but the Water Daimyō has publicly assured the Shogun the situation is under control and the genocides have stopped," Jiraiya said with a frown. "Everyone thought the Chūnin Exams being hosted in Kiri was a sign that he was telling the truth. You're saying they're just trying to fund their civil war."

"Believe me or don't, it doesn't matter to me," Sansa told him. "But Kiri won't be starting a war with Konoha. That, I can promise you."

~

It would be the Hokage who officially granted Sansa the rank of chūnin, but the Mizukage still congratulated her for her win and presented her with a chūnin vest as the Konoha party stood at the gates of the stone wall surrounding the village.

Chiyoko was... alive. She was alive. Kabuto had managed to heal her enough to stabilise her, but she was still in tremendous pain and there was a tired anger in her eyes. Jiraiya would be carrying her back to Konoha as they were disinclined to delay their return to their village until she was healed enough to move on her own.

Sansa felt different, standing in front of the Mizukage now then she had at the start of the Exams. She felt harder, and yet emptier. There was a faint sense of triumphant at having won, at having survived against the odds, even with Kabuto having warned her against excessive use of chakra for at least the next month to prevent her from damaging her still-healing chakra pathways, but when the price of survival was standing on the backs of the corpses of broken children, was it truly a victory?

"Congratulations, Onryō-hime," Yagura said, his purple eyes glittering, and for a moment, Sansa truly, truly hated him.

One day, she thought. One day, Ki would would free whichever of Kurama's siblings was bound within Yagura and with his rebels he would tear this man to pieces.

Until then, she could only bare her teeth in a mocking smile, straight-backed, chin-high, the ghosts of thousands at her back as she did her part for the revolution to come.

"Mizukage," she said, stepping forwards to accept the chūnin vest. As she did, she made sure her hand brushed against the back of Yagura's; when their skin met, she let her fingers burn with Kurama's chakra while her eyes flared fire-bright. "Goodbye, little brother," she said, an edge of mockery in her voice– after all, whichever Bijuu he contained, she knew Kurama had more tails. Yagura did not yank his hand back, but he did go very still, flaring Bijuu chakra in response; all corrosive, salt-water-open-wounds. 

Sansa had to work to keep the triumph from showing on her face. It was clear that her distraction had worked; while Yagura had focused on the chakra of the Nine Tailed Fox, he hadn't noticed the anchoring seal on her palm sinking below his skin, where it would stay hidden until activated.

As she stepped back, Jiraiya's closed over her shoulder and he pulled her back, as if pulling her to safety. He needn't have worried. Yagura didn't appear angry– instead, he laughed.

"Goodbye, elder sister," he said, just as mocking, still with that unsettling interest. Sansa, her eyes fire-bright, kept smiling; one predator to another.

"Let's go," Jiraiya said tersely. He waited until they were outside of Kiri's gates, waited until the stone had closed behind them, before turning on her. "What was that about?" he demanded, something just shy of panic in his voice.

"Truly the greatest of ironies," Sansa murmured, looking back at the stone gateway, protected by the seals of her people.

For it was just as Ki had said; it was the greatest of ironies that the man who had ended so many lives would be brought down by the beginning of new life.

Kabuto just sighed at her lack of a true answer, reaching to grab her hand. "Let me check you haven't damaged your chakra pathways any further with that stunt," he grumbled. Sansa let him, a smile on her face as he fussed, an exasperated but fond twist to his chakra. Chiyoko was smiling too.

"She wouldn't be Fuyuko-chan if she wasn't causing trouble," she said and Jiraiya just looked so done.

"I can't wait until we're back in Konoha," he said with feeling.

And for once, Sansa actually agreed with him. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE:

Sasuke wasn't sure what had made him talk to Naruto that day at the Academy– anger, jealousy, envy... something thick and toxic had twisted itself up inside him as Naruto fretted to Iruka about his strong, smart sister who was competing in the Chūnin Exams. And then he'd learned that Naruto's sister was their age and for a moment he'd felt hate. How was she so strong, already competing to be a Chūnin when Sasuke was as useless and pathetic as a civilian, not even worth killing?

He'd wanted to shake Naruto, to scream in his face, to shove him from the tree branch for how he just didn't care that they were weak-weak-weak, because how could he not care, how could she be so strong!? And then Naruto had snarled out a familiar name and Sasuke's rage stilled, shivered; shifted to something else entirely.

Danzo. Shimura Danzo.

The eye thief.

When Naruto had blurted out in class that a village elder had stolen 'a bunch of Uchiha eyeballs', that he had 'put them in his arm to use', Sasuke had thought for sure that the other boy had been lying. The thought of something so– so blasphemous occurring in Konoha was just– it was beyond belief.

And yet–

"I'm so sorry, Sasuke-kun," the Hokage had said sadly as Sasuke was presented with the Sharingan eyes of his massacred kin. His father's eyes. His mother's eyes.

It was like they'd been murdered all over again– only worse, because they had been defiled, dishonoured, and as the de-facto Head of the Uchiha Clan in His absence, even if he couldn't sit in on Council meetings until he was legally of age or a genin, it had been Sasuke's responsibility to ensure such violation did not befall them. This– this desecration of their bloodline was his fault, his failure. Because he was too weak to stop Him from killing them, and then he was too weak to stop Shimura Danzo from raping their corpses.

And because he didn't know how many of his kin had been defiled, Sasuke didn't even know if all the Sharingan recovered from Shimura had been returned to him. He didn't believe the Hokage for a moment when the old man swore on his honour that they all had– they were shinobi, not samurai. What honour did they have?

Sasuke had taken the Sharingan that had been returned to him home, had burned them as they should have been burned with the bodies of the dead, returning them to the flame that the Uchiha had first been crafted from, and then he'd curled up in his parents' bed, in the sheets that still smelled of his mother's perfume, and just sobbed until eventually his tears dried and he was left numb and empty.

He didn't leave the bed of his parents for six days, except to use the bathroom for the first two. He felt listless, lifeless; remembering hurt, it was so much easier to sink into a fugue of nothing. Eventually an ANBU came and carried him to the hospital. He was kept there on a psych hold for three weeks, forced to speak each day to a Yamanaka and swallow down colourful pills that cut through the fog, turning the world blindingly bright and harsh and real once more, before he was allowed to return to his home.

(The fears of his civilian relatives grew tenfold after the incident, so terrified they were that he was just like his brother, that he would one day snap like He did and murder them all)

Nobody had mentioned Shimura Danzo in his presence since– not his relatives, his teachers, his therapist or the Hokage. Nobody except Naruto. Naruto, who, Sasuke realised, had reason to hate Shimura Danzo just as Sasuke did. Naruto, who, because of Shimura, had been left just as alone in the world as Sasuke was.

Sasuke still wasn't sure why he'd talked to Naruto that day– but he didn't regret it. He didn't regret following Naruto when he ditched class, didn't regret visiting the other boy's shrine where he listened to him speak of his own massacred clan, of free will and the rage of gods. When Naruto asked about visiting the Uchiha's shrine to Amaterasu Omikami, the truth of his clan's treatment toward him had slipped from Sasuke, almost unbidden. Maybe it was because Naruto was the first person he'd ever felt could possibly understand, as he tried to explain that the Uchiha civilians didn't like (hated-feared-loathed) shinobi. That they didn't like (hated-feared-loathed) Sasuke.

There had been no pity in Naruto's eyes– only an understanding that Sasuke greedily drank down, like a man dying of thirst in a desert who had stumbled upon a well. And when that understanding had come with an invitation, despite knowing the foolishness of attachment and against his better judgment, Sasuke had accepted the offer.

The apartment Naruto shared with his sister was tiny, smaller even than some of the rooms in Sasuke's house, and old too. But it was homey; it had a clean, floral smell, the walls were painted a warm yellow and the curtains were stitched with a pattern of orange foxes gambolling about the spiral that Naruto always wore on his clothes and in recent months had taken to painting on his forehead. The furniture was cheap and second-hand, but it was well-looked after and in good condition and there was a beautifully decorated blanket arranged over the couch; an embroidered pattern of intricately detailed snowflakes amidst which wolves with eyes of coloured glass beads howled.

"You can have Ko-ane's mat for now," Naruto said cheerfully. "We'll get you one later."

Sasuke had snorted to himself, not expecting for a moment that there would be a 'later'. He imagined he'd only stay a day or two before he grew too annoyed with Naruto, who was always so loud and annoying in class and was stupid enough that he'd been held back three times.

It didn't take long for Sasuke to realise how wrong he was.

His first hint was the loudness.

Or rather, it was the lack of. Because Naruto wasn't loud in the apartment; he was still enthusiastic, still bright, still chattered endlessly away, but he didn't shout, didn't draw attention to himself the way he did at the Academy. Even his clothes were different, the orange jumpsuit traded for a simple pair of black shorts and nondescript grey t-shirt.

Knowing how Naruto acted in the apartment, the difference was so obvious to Sasuke's eyes; he could literally see the shift as it happened, how Naruto seemed to change personalities the moment they stepped on the Academy grounds, all his sharp edges turning blunt and thick.

Sasuke didn't understand. Why would Naruto want to appear less than he was? And why would he choose the Academy to flaunt his presence the way he did?

It didn't take long for Sasuke to figure it out, after sitting in class and puzzling over the mystery as Naruto cheered loudly with Kiba– Naruto's sister had disappeared, stolen away with nobody to look for her or notice she was missing. Everybody noticed when Naruto didn't show up– he was too loud to miss.

Sasuke couldn't help but look at Naruto with new eyes following this realisation.

And that was only the first hint.

The next thing he really noticed was how Naruto carried himself in the streets around his apartment building.

Naruto lived in a part of Konoha that Sasuke's parents would have never have let him go near. The streets weren't dirty, but they had an unclean sort of air about them and the people that walked them weren't the type that a proper, well-bred Uchiha should be associating with. The first time Sasuke realised one of the women Naruto had stopped to greet was a prostitute, his face had turned so hot Naruto wouldn't stop laughing at him for nearly ten minutes.

He'd started looking around them with new eyes after that, seeing the exaggerated sway of the women's hips as they walked, the colourful tattoos covering the men, and the worn clothes on the children with the three stripes on each cheek– the same stripes that Naruto had painted on his cheeks.

Oh, he'd realised, very quietly.

Prostitutes. Criminals. The street kids his father had ranted about– children who lived, worked or spent long periods of time on the street without any parental or guardian supervision. His father always said they should sign up to the Academy and serve their village, so their existence wasn't such a waste.

It took Sasuke longer then he'd admit to realise what felt so different about Naruto as they walked through the streets where the other boy was so obviously at ease– the Yūkaku, Naruto had called it. Sasuke almost couldn't believe it when he did, but Naruto felt dangerous here. It was the way he held himself, the way he walked; he prowled, almost– instead of making himself small, the way he did in the village proper, here he let his presence stretch. And the people around them, they seemed to respect Naruto. The women would stop to greet him, the street kids would mutter and pass things off to him, even the men with the colourful tattoos would nod at him and Naruto would nod back while Sasuke felt unease shiver through him at being under such cool, hard stares as those men.

The final big hint he had that Naruto was so much more then he'd seemed came the day the other boy had accompanied Sasuke when he'd returned to the Uchiha Compound to gather as many of his things as he could carry, intent by then on taking up Naruto's offer to stay with him for at least a few weeks. Now that he knew Naruto wasn't the terrible roommate he'd been expecting, the thought of being away from his clan was a desperately welcome one.

On their way out, Naruto stopped in the doorway of Sasuke's house and tilted his head.

"Huh," he said thoughtfully, "you've got shadows, too."

It took Sasuke a moment of following Naruto's stare to spot the ANBU crouched on the rooftop across from them, and he turned wide-eyes towards Naruto, who was acting as if spotting ANBU was easy– and as if having ANBU watchers was normal. It wasn't– either spotting them or having them. Sasuke wasn't sure how he was supposed to convey that to the other boy.

Naruto's smile turned fox-sly and sharp as he leaned in. "Wanna learn how to ditch 'em?" He asked, voice hushed.

Itachi had been an ANBU once.

"Yes," Sasuke breathed back, at once thrilled and bewildered and just so, so confused by everything about his classmate. Naruto's smile widened, his teeth gleaming bright and white.

Some distant part of Sasuke remembered reading once that most animal species showed their teeth as a sign of aggression; a display of threat.

"This is gonna be loads of fun," Naruto said gleefully.

It was fun. Sasuke hadn't known that Naruto carried flash-bang seals and paintballs in his pockets, but by the time the ANBU had been left far behind them, he was breathless with adrenaline and excitement both and fully aware of the fact he had badly underestimated Naruto.

He wasn't about to make that mistake twice.

Once they'd reached Naruto's apartment, Sasuke carefully unpacked the things he'd brought. It felt strange, unrolling his mat alongside Naruto's and carefully placing the photograph of his parents on the little shrine Naruto had in the corner of the apartment. There were no photos on Naruto's shrine, he'd explained he didn't have any photos of his parents, but there were three framed pieces of embroidery– one of the spiral Naruto wore, one of a grey-furred wolf with yellow-gold eyes, and one of a red fox with nine tails in shades of red, orange, bronze and yellow, like flickering flames. Sasuke wasn't sure why they'd want an image of the Kyuubi on their shrine, but supposed it was because their parents had died during the attack. It still seemed strange to him.

Other then the photograph and the mat, he had brought over his pillow, several changes of outfits, and his gear and supplies for the Academy. It wasn't much, but it was enough for him to live off for several weeks. There wasn't a lot of room in the single cupboard for his clothes, but Naruto simply shoved his things over to make room for Sasuke's and he pretended he didn't feel a warmth in his chest that Naruto cared enough to make room in his life for him.

"Hey," Naruto said, once they'd finished unpacking Sasuke's things, "wanna meet Tama-neechan?"

Sasuke frowned, uncertain. "I thought your sister's name was Fuyuko?" he said. "And that she was in Kiri?"

Naruto pulled a face, something dark flickering briefly over his expression before it straightened back out again. "Yeah," he nodded, "Tama-neechan ain't really my sister. She's my boss," he explained. "I do stuff for her an' she takes care of me. She's real nice an' she should prob'ly know you're living with me. An',  ya know, that you're mine."

"I'm not yours, dobe," Sasuke scoffed, shoving the other boy. Naruto laughed, bright and cheerful.

"Well, yeah," he said, "we know that, teme. But some of the people 'round here, they're not so nice. So it's prob'ly best that it's passed around. So there's no trouble, ya know?"

No, Sasuke didn't know. He wasn't even sure what sort of trouble Naruto could be talking about, or who he was suggesting might be a threat and how this "Tama-neechan" could help. But Naruto seemed serious, so he nodded and when Naruto beamed at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door, he couldn't find it in himself to resist.

Naruto led him through the streets of the Yūkaku, occasionally pausing to wave at people, to what looked like an abandoned building; the paint was peeling and the wooden walls were half-rotted away. "Come on," Naruto said cheerfully, sliding through a gap in the rotted wood without any hesitation. Sasuke only paused a moment before following.

Inside was gloomy and bare, long since gutted of anything of worth; Sasuke could hear the scuttling sound of small animals and insects around them and there were charcoal marks on the stone floor where an old fire had once burned. With a jolt, Sasuke noticed that they weren't alone– there were three boys lounging around, all of them older; the oldest maybe thirteen or fourteen, while the youngest was about nine.

"Hey, Komorebi-kun," one waved lazily at Naruto. "Whaddya doin' here? Whose ya friend?"

"I was just lookin' for Tama-neechan," Naruto explained cheerfully, "I wanted ta introduce Sasuke to her."

"Boss is off doin' business," one of the other boys said and Naruto pouted.

"I'll have ta introduce you another time then," he said, sounding disappointed, before perking up slightly. "These are Nen, Kichi and Mitsuo," he said, each boy waving a hand in acknowledgment of their name. "They work for Tama-neechan too."

Sasuke nodded a bit awkwardly at them. He didn't really know what to do or how to act in a situation like this. None of his training had ever prepared him for such a situation; either his training as the son of a clan head, or as a shinobi.

"Hey, Komorebi-kun, you gonna hang out with us?" Kichi asked; he'd pulled a little baggy of what looked like some sort of plant matter from his pocket and Naruto quirked his head a little when he saw it before shrugging.

"Sure," he said. "If you wanna?" he turned to Sasuke who just nodded jerkily, unsure and a little intimidated but not willing to show it. Beaming at him, Naruto joined the three boys sitting down; Sasuke sat next to him and watched suspiciously as the boy Naruto had introduced as Kichi started to sprinkle the plant matter over a square of rough paper he'd pulled from his pocket, before picking it up and rolling the paper into a cylinder, sealing it with a lick of his tongue.

One of the other boys, Mitsuo, had a box of matches and Sasuke watched, confused and more than a little uncertain, as the end of the cylinder was lit and Kichi lifted it to his mouth, inhaling deeply like one of the pipes the Uchiha Elders liked to puff and exhaling a cloud of funny-smelling smoke.

Kichi handed it over to Nen, who copied his actions, inhaling deeply before exhaling and passing to Naruto. Sasuke grabbed Naruto's arm before he could lift the funny cylinder to his mouth; his heart was beating too quickly in his chest, an edge of panic that he couldn't quite suppress from his voice.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. Naruto blinked at him.

"'S okay," he said. "'S just the giggly stuff."

"Giggly stuff?" Sasuke asked warily as Nen snorted and Kichi and Mitsuo both laughed.

"It makes you giggly," Naruto explained. "Wanna try?"

Sasuke didn't want to try. But he also didn't want Naruto to think he was– that he was afraid, so he snatched up the cylinder and tried to copy how Kichi and Nen had sucked on it, only to end up coughing, the smoke burning his lungs as he dropped the cylinder. Through watering eyes, he saw that Naruto had caught it before it could hit the ground.

"Ya don't have ta rush it, kid," Kichi said, reaching over to ruffle Sasuke's hair. Sasuke was still coughing too hard to protest the indignity. "Go slow."

The cylinder was pushed to his lips again and Sasuke, eyes streaming and throat raw and burning, tried to breathe the smoke in slower this time. Almost instantly he felt lightheaded.

"How's that?" he heard Kichi ask and he nodded dazedly. The cylinder was passed around the circle several times and with each inhale, Sasuke found he felt dizzier and dizzier but also lighter then he had in a long time.

At one point, Naruto giggled and nuzzled his cheek against Sasuke's. Sasuke tried to copy Kichi's earlier actions and ruffle Naruto's bright hair, but his aim was off and he ended up tugging accidentally rubbing his hand over Naruto's face instead, which sent both of them into fits of laughter– he could see why Naruto called it 'giggly stuff'.

When the cylinder was finished, burned down to nothing but ashes, Sasuke was drowsy and half-asleep, curled into Naruto's side, Naruto's hands in his hair, idly stroking. For once, he wasn't thinking of his parents or his brother or the way the surviving Uchiha looked at him like he was about to snap and murder them all. All he was thinking about was how sleepy he felt and how warm Naruto was beside him.

"I don' ever wanna leave," he mumbled into Naruto's stomach. Naruto tugged his hair lightly.

"So don't, silly," the other boy huffed. "I told ya– stay with me an' Ko-ane."

"...can I?" Sasuke whispered.

"You can," Naruto promised.

"Okay," Sasuke smiled, closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep, heart light and warm in his chest.

~

A/N: so I did a research project in uni this year on drug use in street children (defined as "those who live, work or spend long periods of time on the street without parental or guardian supervision") and in a systematic review of 27 studies comparing drug use in a street child versus a non-street child, it was found that a street child is 60 percent more likely to use drugs. Drug type depends on the country, age and previous experience.

Being accepted into groups on the streets can be the difference between survival on the streets. Being part of a group can guarantee food and security. However, when they are accepted into groups, street children need to show their commitment to the group. One way of doing this is through drugs. Tobacco and marijuana are the most common. The group sits around and passes the drugs from person to person and refusing to smoke is not acceptable because of group pressure and the need to show affiliation to the group. Regardless of the form it takes, substance abuse is an almost inevitable consequence of life on the streets.

Drug abuse is a tragedy and I'm not intending to romanticize it at all, rather bring to attention the horrors that street children are confronted with. It will not feature heavily in this story but I'll add a warning tag for it. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO:

Compared to their journey to Kiri, as they returned to Konoha it was as if they were an entirely new team. Sansa remembered being short-tempered with Eri and a timid Chiyoko while Kabuto had stayed silent and distant. Now, they couldn't be more different.

Oh, she still had no interest in making nice with Eri. The woman was a Yamanaka– for all that she appeared harmless, bubbly and slightly naïve, Sansa hadn't forgotten she was from a clan trained practically since birth in the workings of the human mind and that she had been chosen to attend the Kiri Chūnin Exams. Yamanaka Eri, Sansa was certain, was more than she appeared and she had no interest in playing any games with such an opponent. Not if she didn't have to.

Kabuto... Kabuto was different. Kabuto had his secrets, Sansa knew, but unlike Eri he did not report back to the Hokage and that made all the difference. Not to mention, his knowledge of the handsigns that Root used had shifted something inside her, something possessive, something edged with burning-red-abyss-black that purred mine.

Root, after all, was hers.

Beyond the taint of Kotoamatsukami, though, and beyond the pact they had made that they would keep each other's secrets, there was a bond between her and Kabuto– and Chiyoko too. It was a bond forged by bloodshed and teamwork, by their survival against all the odds, when their village had sent them to Kiri to die and yet they had waded through oceans of blood and corpses and emerged out the other side alive.

The trust between them, they who had fought side-by-side, who had held each other's lives in their hands, had started out as non-existent before beginning to emerge as something tentative, fragile; trailing gossamer threads that bound them together. Now– now it was Valyrian steel, forged strong and rare and deadly-sharp, dripping blood; it was no kind, gentle trust, for it had not been forged in a kind, gentle environment. It was forged in adversity, in trauma and blood and death, where they had seen each other at their worst, and yet they stood together.

When they made camp each night, after Kabuto checked over Chiyoko's injury, the three of them would lay out their sleeping rolls together, Chiyoko in the middle as the most vulnerable of them, and Sansa felt like she did when curling up with Naruto, Kakashi and Tenzo in their apartment. Like she was with her pack. Like she was safe.

It was difficult for Sansa to believe barely a fortnight had passed since she had left Konoha. It felt like a lifetime. On a deep, fundamental level, she felt changed. It wasn't just the new bonds that she had formed, the new name that she had earned, or the new corpses she had left behind her. It was the journey she had made, the discovery of who she was.

Yes, she was a shinobi. She could admit that now. This world had made her one, whether she wished to be or not. But she didn't have to define herself by Konoha's definition of 'shinobi', because she wasn't a shinobi of Konoha and she never would be. She was Uzumaki Fuyuko of Uzushiogakure and she was a shinobi of Uzushio– a protector of her people, not a mercenary for hire, a killer for the right price, and just as inevitable as the tides, she swore that one day Uzushio would rise once more.

~

It took five days for them to reach Konoha. They had to travel at a slower pace for Chiyoko; even though she was being carried, the movement still wasn't good for her and they needed to stop frequently for Kabuto to check on her injuries and heal any new damage. As soon as they reached Konoha, Jiraiya disappeared with Chiyoko to the hospital while Sansa, Eri and Kabuto were left to check in with the two chūnin on gate duty.

"Hey, you're Raidou's kid," one of the chūnin said, before any of them could even say anything. Sansa blinked, remembering after a beat that Raidou was Tora's name– she had spent four years calling him Tora, the name change was going to take getting used to.

But– Raidou's kid?

"He talked about you all the time," the other chūnin said and Sansa didn't quite know how to respond to that, so she just smiled politely.

"He was always one of my favourites," she said, which was the truth– of the ANBU guards, next to Inu, Tora had always been the best, the one willing to break the rules to comfort Naruto when he cried and Sansa couldn't get him to calm. Did she resent him for the Academy debacle? She tried not to. She knew he was just obeying his Hokage's orders, as any soldier would. But it didn't help the sting of betrayal she felt.

"I'm Hagane Kotetsu, this is Kamizuki Izumo," the first chūnin introduced them.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Sansa said, with a neat bow and a pretty smile. "I'm Uzumaki Fuyuko."

"So, your first mission out of the village?" Kotetsu asked, with a sympathetic look on his face. "Don't worry, I'm sure your teammate will be fine."

Sansa blinked. Was it not common knowledge, that the Hokage had sent her to compete in the Chūnin Exams held in Kiri?

Oh, that was a mistake on his behalf– he should have controlled how the information spread. Instead, he'd left it in her hands.

"It wasn't a mission, Hagane-san," she said, a look of polite surprise on her face, "we just got back from Kiri– you know, for the Chūnin Exams."

"The what!?" Kotetsu and Izumo practically exclaimed in tandem. Sansa blinked up at them, innocent and wide-eyed, reaching up with one hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, incidentally drawing attention to the Uzushio spiral on her forehead as she did so– and not missing how Kotetsu and Izumo's eyes went straight to it.

"Kiri is very different to Konoha," she said, keeping her words simple and child-like, still with wide-eyed innocence.

"I... bet it is," Izumo said slowly.

"I don't think I'd ever like to go back there," she added with a shiver, looking past the two gate guards with a haunted expression.

Eri quickly cut in there, finally deciding to do damage control. "Ah, I think we better check in," she said, with forced cheer, "we need to go speak with the Hokage."

"Yeah," Kotetsu said, with a nod and a frown. "Let me get the paperwork for you."

Eri filled in the forms quickly before chivvying them along, leading the way through the streets. Kabuto dropped back slightly and Sansa slowed her pace to match him. "You're a troublemaker," he murmured and Sansa smiled, sharp and pretty.

"He shouldn't have sent me to Kiri if he didn't want to face the consequences," she murmured back.

"Oh, he made a mistake, alright," Kabuto agreed. "He expected you to die or he expected Chiyoko and I to die and for your ire to turn on Kiri, that you would see them as the enemy, instead of Konoha. Simplistic, yes, but he believes he's dealing with a child. And you, my dear, are far from a child."

"Oh?" Sansa said lightly and Kabuto smiled down at her.

"I wonder," he said, "if the Mizukage was more correct then he realised. Onryō-hime, he called you. Uzushio's Wrathful Ghost Princess."

Sansa felt her smile widen. It wasn't true, of course; she wasn't a vengeful princess of Uzushio reborn. But Kabuto was the first to truly realise she was more than the child she appeared, to see past the skin to the mind underneath. She should be unnerved, she thought. It should worry her, that someone with such uncertain loyalties had guessed such a hidden truth about her. But there was a sort of... relief that came with being seen and Sansa couldn't find it within herself to regret it. Not yet.

The Sandaime was waiting for them in his office. Jiraiya met them there, having already dropped Chiyoko off at the hospital while they were talking to the gate guards. Sansa had removed the chūnin vest from her seal before entering the office and she didn't miss how the Hokage's eyes went straight to it.

"I see congratulations are in order," he said, and there was a warm smile on his grandfatherly face yet she could feel how his chakra was a tight, frustrated, barely leashed ball in his chest.

Had he truly wanted her dead so badly? Or was it Kabuto and Chiyoko's survival that frustrated him so?

"I haven't heard a full report of the exams yet," the Sandaime continued, "but I have heard from Jiraiya about your exemplary actions, Kabuto-kun, when young Chiyoko-chan was injured. He impressed upon me your quick thinking and talent and it gives me great pleasure to grant you your new status as a chūnin of Konoha."

It was almost amusing, Sansa thought, how both the Hokage and Kabuto smiled at each other, while both their chakra twisted in frustration, revealing their true feelings about Kabuto's promotion.

"Thank you, Hokage-sama," Kabuto murmured with a bow.

"I'm sure you both want to go check on your teammate," the Hokage said warmly. "If you get the opportunity, you should inform young Chiyoko-chan that she, too, has shown the skill and capabilities required for a promotion to chūnin. I will officially present her with her promotion when she is out of hospital. You should be proud, all of you, in how you have represented Konoha."

Kabuto bowed and Sansa inclined her head to the Hokage before leaving the office, Eri and Jiraiya both remaining behind, presumably to debrief the Hokage. Sansa was impatient to see Naruto, but first she and Kabuto made their way to the hospital.

Chiyoko was still in surgery so they sat together in the waiting room, Kabuto with a stack of forms that would ensure he was stationed permanently in the hospital, barring in times of war, while Sansa pretended to meditate, while in truth she searched Konoha for any trace of Kakashi's chakra.

He was still gone.

She did find Naruto, though, and she felt a warmth in her belly at the thought of seeing her brother soon.

Tears welled in her eyes suddenly and she felt her breath hitch. She was going to see Naruto again. She had done it. She had survived the Chūnin Exams and she had left Kiri not only alive, but with a plan to help one of Kurama's siblings escape. A shudder ran through her and Sansa forced herself to breathe deeply, fighting the tears that wanted to spill at the sheer relief and joy she felt.

Kabuto's hand on her back startled her, but after a moment she realised he was offering her comfort, in his own stilted way, and she leaned into it, reaching with her chakra for his. Ninshū, Mito had called this connection of chakra. Kabuto startled slightly but he didn't fight as she intertwined her ocean tides with slippery-cool-sly; she could feel his frustration, the traces of exhaustion, even a faint tinge of fondness directed to her, as well as a growing interest. She wondered if he could feel how she felt. Mito had said that it didn't come as naturally to people without Uzumaki ancestry.

She sat there with Kabuto, their chakra intertwined, waiting for Chiyoko. They didn't separate until a nurse came out to tell them that Chiyoko was ready for visitors. "You are an interesting person, Fuyuko-chan," Kabuto murmured as they stood. Sansa just smiled.

Chiyoko looked thin and pale against the white sheets of the hospital bed, but she managed to smile at them as they approached. "How do you feel?" Sansa demanded as Kabuto lifted Chiyoko's chart from the end of the bed and began flipping through it.

"Numb. Sort of high." Chiyoko admitted and Sansa laughed, reaching to grasp one of Chiyoko's hands in her own.

"They don't appear to have undone any of my hard work," Kabuto said, with an approving nod. "You should be back on your feet in a matter of weeks."

Chiyoko smiled up at him. "They were really impressed with your work," she said teasingly and Kabuto grimaced.

"I know," he said, "I got a promotion out of it."

"How positively dreadful," she said, mock-solemnly.

"You got one too," Kabuto informed her archly and Chiyoko pulled a face.

"Is that supposed to be some sort of consolation prize?" she asked, having the presence of mind to drop her voice. "Congratulations, we sent you to die but you didn't, so have this promotion and don't be pissed at us?"

"Careful," Kabuto said, an amused look on his face and Chiyoko rolled her eyes but nodded, turning to Sansa.

"I'm okay," she said firmly, "go find your brother– I know you're dying to."

Sansa couldn't deny it, so she leaned up to brush her lips against Chiyoko's cheek, squeezing her hand one last time and brushing her other hand against Kabuto's, before leaving her new team behind as she headed for the bright-bold-storm of chakra that was Naruto.

~

"It was a disaster," Jiraiya's voice was muffled by the fact his head was in his hands. He was in the Hokage's office, surrounded by the shinobi summoned for the debrief on the Kiri Chūnin Exams– the Hokage, of course, as well as the Elders Koharu and Homura, Shikaku as Jōnin Commander, Inoichi, as head of T&I, and the head of ANBU.

"It was an absolute fucking disaster," Jiriaya continued, not even caring about trying to appear professional. "Fuyuko killed two proctors during the first stage of the exams, thanks to a flashback– that one's on Danzo, the gift that just keeps on fucking giving. Then she and her team, who might I add were slated as damn career genin, slaughtered their way through the second stage. In three days they killed eighteen genin from Kiri and Iwa. Eighteen. And they came out of it without so much as a scratch.

"Then, in the final stage, Fuyuko managed to get her hands on a lost Uzushio weapon– one traditionally used by their Uzukage– and used it in a death match to destroy the stadium and half-drown the visiting nobles of the Water Daimyō's court and watching shinobi. And if that isn't enough, she and the Mizukage had some sort of Jinchūriki stand-off when we were leaving, where she looked like she was half a second from trying to rip out his throat and she called him 'little brother'! She called the Mizukage 'little brother'!

"Oh, and apparently Kiri's still in the midst of their civil war. Fuyuko says their people are starving, there are rebels in the mountains, killing squads are still going out hunting any surviving bloodline clans and the whole purpose of hosting the Chūnin Exams was to fund their civil war, which she learned while spying. Because infiltration is apparently something Danzo taught her," Jiraiya finished tiredly.

"Troublesome," muttered Shikaku.

"That's a big fucking understatement," Jiraiya grumbled.

"The news about Kiri is concerning," Hiruzen cut in. "Jiraiya, I want you to reach out to any contacts you have in the area. Try to get us an in with those rebels."

"If they exist," Homura pointed out sharply. "We are basing this off the word of a child."

"You didn't see what I saw," Jiraiya said, shaking his head. "The Mizukage called her Onryō-hime and so will everyone who was there that day. She didn't look like a child– she looked like the ghost of Uzushio, come to punish us all for our sins."

"Save the fantasies for your books, Jiraiya," Koharu said as everyone in the room shifted uneasily.

"What I want to know," Shikaku interrupted before Jiraiya could retort, a dark look on the normally outwardly-jovial man's face, "is where she got the tessen. It was supposed to have been lost when Uzushio fell. Kushina used to say it was reclaimed by the ocean."

"Fuyuko said it was given to her by the gods," Jiraiya told them with a grimace. "She said she found it in the shrine she prays at. That the spirits of her ancestors told her what it was."

"Nothing is ever simple with her," Hiruzen said, frustrated.

"Yeah, well, it's a matter of trust," Jiraiya said bluntly, "and the fact that she doesn't." There was something a little wistful in his eyes, then. "There were some moments, though," he murmured, "when I saw something close. It's something special, to be trusted by someone like her." He sighed. "Not that she'll ever see trust me again, now that I'm leaving."

"I don't know," Shikaku said thoughtfully. "For a child her age, she has a remarkable grasp of duty and sacrifice. I believe she would have understood your absence in their childhood, had there been more... compromise."

"Compromise?" Jiraiya repeated.

"Anything less than a total absence could be considered a compromise. Even letters, delivered via Hokage-sama to be read to them. Gifts on their birthdays. Small gestures." Shikaku waved a hand. "Compromise."

Jiraiya looked thoughtful. "I could send the toads with letters," he mused. "Do you really think that would help?"

"It wouldn't hurt," Hiruzen decided. "We need her to form close bonds with Konoha's shinobi. Yamanaka Eri reported that she seems to have latched on to Yakushi Kabuto and Hirai Chiyoko. We'll need to encourage that attachment. The more connections she has within Konoha, the more reason she'll have to fight for us."

"She shouldn't need a reason to fight for her village," Homura snapped. "She has a duty!"

"And if Konoha hadn't mistreated her like it has, she'd probably be more willing to fulfil that duty," Inoichi pointed out coldly, narrowing his pale eyes in Homura's direction. There was a simmering tension between the Yamanaka head and the two Elders; Inoichi had been campaigning to have them interrogated about their possible involvement in Danzo's illegal activities and while so far Hiruzen had interfered Inoichi refused to back down and with the backing of the Nara and Akimichi clans, the pressure on the Hokage was mounting.

"Enough," Hiruzen interrupted before Homura could retort. "The Kiri Exams have overall been a success. They were a show of Konoha's strength, we have learned valuable new information about Kiri's internal situation and Fuyuko has formed new bonds within the village. This is a satisfactory outcome."

~

Kakashi hated missions like these.

He'd never liked the Land of Earth. The rocky mountain range separating it from the other countries isolated it from the rest of the Elemental Nations and its insular nature made infiltration difficult. But a high-ranking noble had reached out to Konoha, complaining that the onmyōji* employed by the Earth Daimyō had cursed his infant son. Whether this was true or if the noble just wanted the onmyōji dead for his own reasons, Konoha didn't particularly care– they just wanted the rather extravagant pay offered to them by the noble who couldn't reach out to the Iwa shinobi bound by duty to serve the Earth Daimyō first.

Missions like these involved months of work; they had to set up covers to gain entry into Earth's capital city, they had to avoid being detected as foreign shinobi by any Iwa shinobi in the capital, as well as any of the samurai who served the Daimyō and then there were the oniwaban**– despite being under the direct command of the shōgun first and foremost as they inspected and reported to him on the state of affairs in the countries, the shōgun's undercover agents would report to the Daimyō if they uncovered a foreign shinobi in his city.

It was a delicate balance of trusting no one while appearing as trustworthy enough to eventually find a way to gain access to the Daimyō's Palace, where the onmyōji of the court lived.

Then there was the fact their target was an onmyōji. Kakashi didn't doubt there were charlatans out there, possibly including their target, but he also knew better then to dismiss the possibility of the onmyōji being the real deal– especially if the noble was telling the truth about his son being cursed. Dealing with a practitioner of onmyōdō meant dealing with warding protecting the man's quarters and a potential skill at divination that would increase the difficulty of setting up an assassination.

It was also possible that it was the fact the mission would keep him away from Fuyuko and Naruto for months, possibly up to half a year, that had him so disgruntled and doing such a poor job hiding it, but he couldn't help the crawling unease he felt. Konoha should feel like a safe place to leave them, a place that he could entrust with their wellbeing. It would be edging towards treason to even think otherwise of his village.

And yet...

He didn't trust Konoha.

There was a part of him, the part of him in which loyalty to his village was carved deep, engraved into the very marrow of his bones, that violently resisted this thought. That wanted to claw it from his head, to toss it away as if it had never existed. To kneel before the Hokage, to bow his head in repentance and beg forgiveness for such a betrayal.

Because it was a betrayal. It was a betrayal to Minato, to Kushina, to Obito, to Rin, who all had died for Konoha. It was a betrayal to his father, who had died to restore honour to the Hatake name in Konoha. It was a betrayal to the Hokage, who Kakashi had sworn to serve and obey, with all that he was and all that he had.

It was a betrayal, and yet, when he thought of twin heads of jewel-bright red and sunshine-bright yellow, when he thought of wide, trusting eyes of deep-ocean-tides and bright-summer-skies, suddenly the betrayal didn't weigh so heavily on his shoulders, didn't squeeze iron fingers around his throat.

Because Konoha had betrayed him first.

How could he trust the village, how could he trust the Hokage, when they had already betrayed him, betrayed his pack? How could he surrender the safety of the twins into Konoha's care, when he knew there was no true care there to be found?

Fuyuko; so small, so thin, coming back to the apartment from Jiraiya's trainign with blank eyes and bruises and bandages– it made him angry, so furiously, wretchedly angry, because this wasn't Root, this wasn't wartime, why were they treating her like a soldier, not a child?

It took every bit of skill Kakashi had not to falter in the mission, to not endanger his teammates through his own distraction. Only Tenzo understood what was wrong with him; he knew the rest of Team Ro must be confused, must be wondering what had unsettled their usually unshakable, mission-oriented captain, but he couldn't find it within himself to try to explain. Didn't think he could manage it without speaking dangerous words, words far too close to treason to risk escaping his lips.

It was easier to just slip on the persona of Inu, to layer it with the cover-story of an entertainer, travelling with a dance troupe, and bury Kakashi down deep, deep, deep.

Sukea, the Noh Mai dancer, was walking through an evening crowd after a performance, when he heard two shinobi talking.

"–killed in the second stage of the Exams," one was saying and it immediately caught his attention, the part of him that was Kakashi rearing up to take control even as he kept his footsteps the same light, swaying movements of the dancer that Sukea was.

"The entire team?" The second shinobi repeated, before spitting. "Doesn't surprise me," he spat, "what were we expecting when the exams were in fucking Kiri?"

Kakashi– Kakashi forced himself to keep walking, to not react, to keep his chakra small and contained even as the barely restrained urge for violence howled within him. He needed to hear the rest of this conversation. He needed to understand. He had to be hearing it wrong. He had to be. The Hokage wouldn't. He wouldn't– and if he tried, Jiraiya wouldn't have let him, he couldn't have. He wouldn't have let Minato and Kushina's daughter go to Kiri, not Fuyuko.

"You'd think it was Kiri," the first shinobi said, "but I heard they weren't the ones who killed our team– one of theirs didn't even win the Exams, despite the home-ground advantage. You'll never believe who did win."

"Who?" the second shinobi asked impatiently.

"It was an Uzumaki," the first shinobi said with a hateful relish. "A real Uzumaki."

Kakashi let himself bump into someone, stopping to apologise, complimenting the woman on the cut of her kimono and parting with a bright smile and shared light-hearted laughter before the smile fell once he was out of sight, a dark rage building inside him.

Tenzo was the first of his team he ran into, back at the caravans where the dance troupe they had joined was set up– the Hokage had a lucrative arrangement with this troupe, rotating shinobi in and out in order to get eyes into different cities across the Elemental Nations; with the extravagant costumes and make-up, they were indistinguishable from the real dancers, blending in and infiltrating even the most cautious towns and cities.

"Sukea-kun?" Tenzo asked, looking concerned. Kakashi must not have been controlling his expression or chakra as well as he'd thought. "Is something the matter?"

"There's been a change of plans," Kakashi said, and his voice came out strange, too flat. "I'm afraid my niece has fallen ill, I need to return home to her."

Tenzo's eyes widened in alarm, understanding flickering in his eyes.

Kakashi didn't care if they weren't prepared enough. He'd carry out the assassination alone if he had to, but he was taking out the target tonight and then he was going to find Fuyuko. And by the gods, she had better be alive, or he was going to tear the Hokage and Jiraiya apart before he took Naruto and ran.

~

*Onmyōji = practitioner of onmyōdo (mixture of natural science, divination and occultism); a sort of priest

**The Oniwaban were a group of government-employed undercover agents established by the 8th Tokugawa shōgun of Japan. They were under the direct command of the shōgun and in charge of undercover intelligence operations, reporting any news about the city of Edo to the shōgun or remaining incognito to inspect and report on the states of affairs in the countryside. Most historical plays and novels depict them as spies or ninjas

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE:

Itachi felt drained as he returned to the Akatsuki base. His mission had been a success– of course it had– but he hadn't appreciated being partnered with Sasori, no matter how temporary the arrangement promised to be. He missed working with Biwa Jūzō. Despite his reputed inhumane brutality, the Kiri missing-nin had been patient and meticulous, with a professional approach to missions that Itachi had admired– and now sorely missed, after being paired with the childishly theatrical Sasori. Biwa's recent loss had been a blow for the Akatsuki that Itachi supported in principle but found himself personally disgruntled over as he was rotated through the other Akatsuki members while a new permanent partner was searched out for him.

After they'd reported the success of their mission to Pein, Itachi gladly split ways from Sasori, retreating to the room at the base he called his own. After nearly a month of travelling, he found himself keener than he'd have thought to return to Amegakure– perhaps it was the illusion of safety provided by the base. As an ex-ANBU he should know better than to associate any part of the organisation he was infiltrating with safety or comfort, but Itachi didn't know how long this deep-cover mission would last and he thought he'd go mad if he was forced to remain on his guard the entire time.

Well, madder than he already was. Nobody helped massacre their entire clan, execute their parents and torture their beloved brother only to come out of it entirely sane. But he was an Uchiha– insanity burned hot in their blood and he was adept enough at managing it.

Distracted by his thoughts– and shamefully off-guard as a result of the safety illusion provided by the base– it took Itachi an unforgivable second and a half to notice the interloper in his assigned room.

His entire body went tense the moment he registered the presence of Orochimaru, his fellow Konoha missing-nin leaning lazily back against one of the walls, watching him with a single gleaming golden eye– the other, hidden behind a strip of silk, Itachi knew to now be a vivid, bloody red.

He had barely interacted with Orochimaru following the Sharingan transplant. Konan had taken him aside to question him, the day that followed, obviously concerned about just how willing the donation of a Sharingan could have been. It was only his promise that the transplant had been entirely willing on his behalf that had Konan stepping back from the situation, though Itachi wasn't ignorant to the suspicion towards Orochimaru that lingered. It was partially because of this that Itachi found himself waiting expectantly each day for the announcement that Orochimaru had left the Akatsuki– not that the Akatsuki was the type of organisation one merely left, but Orochimaru had enough skill and cunning that he didn't doubt the man had an exit plan.

This, however– this invasion to the sanctity of his private room– this was unexpected.

"Can I help you?" Itachi asked anyway, because he had been raided a clan heir– proper manners had been drilled into him since before he could even talk.

Orochimaru smiled at him, a mildly disturbing sight. "Ah, Itachi-kun," he said, his voice smooth and deceptively light. "I'm guessing you haven't heard the news?"

"News?" Itachi repeated, carefully mimicking Orochimaru's light tone. Orochimaru's smile widened.

"The Chūnin Exams were particularly eventful this time around," he said and Itachi felt confused as to why the Snake Sannin would choose to mention the Exams, or why a legendary nin like Orochimaru would even bother to take note of the progress of shinobi so far below him in rank and skill.

Orochimaru didn't make him ask for more details, at least, instead offering them up with a sly smile and gleaming eye.

"That Kirigakure was chosen to host the Exams already promised an interesting show," he said, "but to have a real Uzumaki compete in them– well, that came as a surprise to everyone."

Itachi found it suddenly difficult to breathe, though he knew better than to let that show on his face as he stared back at the predator lounging across from him. Orochimaru's single golden eye gleamed with cold, analytical interest, as if Orochimaru was peeling back Itachi's skin, examining the bone and viscera beneath, and he carefully held himself from flinching.

It was blatantly clear to them both that the other Konoha missing-nin was aware of a connection between Fuyuko and himself and that he was assessing Itachi's reaction in order to read into the depth of the connection. Personally, Itachi wasn't even sure how he would classify his connection to the younger of the Uzumaki twins. How did you define a relationship in which you'd met just the once, and yet the other knew your greatest of weaknesses, your darkest of secrets?

And then there was having to contend with the second part of Orochimaru's shocking revelation– Fuyuko had been sent to Kiri for her chūnin exam.

He... wasn't even able to properly comprehend such madness. It had to be a lie. Sending a genin, one so young, to the vicious bloodbath that was Kiri would be a death sentence, no matter how prodigious the child. To send an Uzumaki right into the belly of the beast that had reduced Uzushio to little more than rubble and bones...

Itachi could not think of a single reason why the Hokage would make such a choice.

No– that was a lie. There was one reason why his Kage would send an Uzumaki genin to Kiri, he simply could not bear to admit to such a horrifying truth, not even in the privacy of his own thoughts.

Because how did one confront the realisation that your Kage had sent a child to die? That he had sent her off to be viciously slaughtered?

...perhaps the same way that one was forced to reconcile with the icy revelation that their Kage would simply prefer to look the other way when an old friend committed treason, ordering an entire clan bar only the most inarguably innocent and defenceless among them, executed under charges of treason that only the highest ranked of them were even aware or guilty of.

Orochimaru's mouth had curled slightly at the corners and Itachi could read the cold amusement there, on that sly face. Distantly, he could help but wonder just how aware Orochimaru was of Itachi's true loyalties. He suspected that the Snake Sannin had a suspicion that Itachi was still a loyal Konoha nin. That he still swore his life and loyalty to the Hokage. Why else would he take such obvious, unhidden pleasure in brutally stripping away any illusions that Itachi clung to with desperate, blood-soaked fingers from the truth of the man he bowed to, who he belonged to. Because in the end, Saturobi Hiruzen was as monstrous as any other shinobi; selfish and greedy and uncaring of the mountains of corpses he left in his wake.

"Did she survive?" Itachi couldn't stop himself from asking even as a terrible numbness started to creep out from his extremities.

Orochimaru's visible eye glittered. "Oh yes," he practically purred. Itachi had the span of a single heartbeat to experience the almost crushing relief, only for the Snake Sannin to add, "in fact, she won the entire Exam."

Itachi looked back at Orochimaru in horror.

Surviving the Kiri Exams as a not even eight-year-old Uzumaki genin was one thing– but winning?

There was a reason that two of the Hidden Villages had chosen to ally themselves to destroy Uzushio and hunt down every survivor they could.

(There was a reason, Itachi suspected, in the darkest, most disloyal depths of his mind, that Konoha had been too late to save the island and its people)

And that reason was fear.

Fear of the strength of Uzushio and the Uzumaki who had led them. And now... now Fuyuko had demonstrated for the world that the other Hidden Villages should be afraid, that they should fear an Uzumaki and just what they were capable of.

Fuyuko had just placed a target on her back and Itachi did not doubt that every Hidden Village, allied to the Leaf or not, would be desperate to kill the Uzumaki child who had won the Kiri Chūnin Exams before she could grow into an even more terrifying threat to them than they already viewed her.

Fuyuko may have survived the Exams, but Itachi couldn't help but think she had never been in more danger.

"You understand, then," Orochimaru murmured.

He almost sounded pleased.

"It's difficult not to," Itachi spoke through numb lips.

"She will need to train hard, to grow strong," Orochimaru said, almost idly. "I wonder– do you think Konoha will let her?"

Or rather, as Itachi understood Orochimaru to be implying– did he think that the Hokage would let her?

Sarutobi had already tried to see her dead. He had given her to Danzo, when Fuyuko had proved he could not control her. And Fuyuko had, in turn, seen Danzo disgraced, discredited and destroyed.

It didn't take a prodigy to realise Sarutobi may believe he was next.

Itachi couldn't even say with any certainty that the Hokage wasn't. He'd only caught glimpses, yet he knew Fuyuko's anger to be a frozen, terrible thing that ran deep. It would be so much easier for the Hokage, so much more convenient, for Fuyuko to die before she could become even more of a problem than she already was.

So no, he thought, helpless. No, he did not believe that the Hokage would allow Fuyuko to gain the strength she needed to survive.

"The only question now," Orochimaru said, reading Itachi's answer in his face, golden eye glittering with some emotion that Itachi could not identify, "the only question that matters– what is it will you do, little Itachi-kun?"

~

Sansa almost felt as if she could tremble out of her skin from her excitement as she approached the apartment she and Naruto shared, her attention focused on the bright whirlwind-storm of chakra that was her brother. She had been so determined that she would leave Kiri alive yet there had been no preventing the poisonous doubt that had lingered, creeping through her like winter's first frost with the knowledge of the immensity of the trial before her.

But she had survived. And not just survived– she had won, she had shown the world that not all of Uzushio was lost, that there existed Uzumaki still that drew breath. There was no grander prize she could imagine than that; a promotion she could not possibly care less about, nor the Hokage's disappointment at her victory, sweet as it was, could possibly compare.

And now, as she climbed the stairs of their shabby apartment building, her excitement setting her blood singing in her veins, Sansa could not wait to share her joy with Naruto.

Finally reaching the apartment they shared, Sansa knocked and waited for her brother to answer. She heard his shriek of excitement before the door even opened; it flew open so quickly it almost hit her in the face and Sansa barely had time to brace herself before she had an armful of Naruto.

"KO-ANE!" His shout almost deafened her but Sansa didn't care, she only clung to him tighter, burying her face in his neck. Their chakra mixed, merged; the winds and oceans creating whirlpools– ninshū, Sansa thought, feeling Naruto's love for her, bright and warming her to her icy, winter core.

"I love you too," Sansa breathed and Naruto sniffed.

"I missed ya," he told her.

"Missed you," she corrected automatically and he giggled, the sound slightly wet.

"I missed you," he corrected himself obediently.

It was an awkwardly cleared throat that alerted Sansa to the fact they had an audience– she blamed the bonfire of Naruto's chakra from distracting her to any other presence in their immediate vicinity. There was a moment where she froze up, her chakra twisting into defensive seals under her palms, the memory of bloodshed too fresh behind her eyelids, only for her to look up, over Naruto's shoulder, at the second person in their apartment.

Oh, she thought, letting her chakra flow back into its normal oceans as she released Naruto, stepping back slightly to look over their guest.

Uchiha Sasuke only resembled Itachi in so much as Sansa had resembled her Aunt Lysa; they shared the classic features of their bloodline, but Sasuke's face was softer, rounder. More innocent, even with the loss that haunted him.

Sansa's heart ached for the boy. She understood the choice Itachi had made. She understood why, even. Itachi was a child, backed into a corner and manipulated by those older and smarter and crueller than him into believing a black and white dichotomy where only one choice led to peace in the village and his little brother's survival. Itachi loved Sasuke just as she loved Naruto; enough to burn the world for him. And so he had; he had burned Sasuke's world to the ground so that Sasuke may rise from its ashes– wounded, bleeding, but alive.

Sansa had wondered why Danzo chose Itachi to kill the Uchiha. As Kakashi said, there were more humane ways to stop a coup. But instead, Danzo had taken a child and he'd shattered that child into so many pieces that it had been simple work for him to take those pieces and shape Itachi into the monster, the kinslayer, he'd needed. That everyone believed Itachi now to be.

She supposed it did make sense, in a wretched sort of way. It was a final punishment to the clan head of the Uchiha, Itachi's father, for planning the coup– if the village had ordered their deaths, the Uchiha could be seen as victims to Konoha's government, even if they were charged as having committed treason, and it would have left a stain over Konoha's reputation, just as Kiri's bloodline clan culling had. Instead, it was an Uchiha who was seen as the monster, a clan killer, a kinslayer– and not just any Uchiha, but the clan head's firstborn son, the clan heir, their prodigy, their pride.

Sansa couldn't help but admire the sheer ruthless cunning of it– and be appalled at the astounding cruelty of letting everyone believe a young boy to be a willing, eager mass murderer of his own kin, including this child standing before her, this child who, more than anybody else, deserved the truth.

Knowing the truth might not change anything; Sasuke could still hate Itachi, could still wish for nothing more than to one day hunt him down and kill him in revenge for the lives of his Clan, and she couldn't deny that it would be justified. Or perhaps Sasuke shared that same love as Itachi; that same burning, all-consuming love that held his brother above any and every other life, and he would find it within himself to move past the ghastly horrors Itachi had committed.

Sasuke deserved to know so he could make that choice knowing the truth of the matter.

But for now, Sansa forced herself to smile as Naruto introduced her to their house guest.

Or possibly their new roommate, if the new sleeping mat rolled on the floor was any indication.

"This is Sasuke," Naruto said, beaming at her, all bright sunshine as his chakra pressed against hers, whirlwinds dancing with waves. "He's my friend!"

"...Naruto said it was okay if I stayed over," Sasuke mumbled. He couldn't seem to quite look her in the eye.

"Of course," Sansa said, keeping her voice light. "For however long you want."

She was careful to avoid the word 'need', though she could understand why Sasuke might want to avoid the Uchiha District. How hated and feared he must be, as the brother of the shinobi who had slaughtered all their kin. How unwelcome he must feel in their midst.

"Sasuke is super good at the katas they teach at the Academy," Naruto informed her brightly. "He's teachin' them to me, so I can get better!"

Sansa felt her heart warm as she looked back at her brother, at his bright eagerness and enthusiasm, how he hadn't even hesitated to boast not of his own accomplishments but of those of his peer. "I can help you train too, now that the Chūnin Exams are over," she said and Naruto's eyes lit up with delight at her offer. "I can help you start with ninjutsu."

"Really?" her brother gasped in wide-eyed delight.

"Really," Sansa confirmed with a smile and Naruto shouted out with glee, jumping up and down in his excitement before pausing, turning to Sasuke who was silent, standing far too still as he stared down at the floor, grief-anger-envy-longing twisting in his chakra as his hands clenched at his sides.

"You'll teach Sasuke too, right?" Naruto said, looking over at her with big, blue pleading eyes.

"Well of course," Sansa said lightly, pretending she didn't notice the way Sasuke's head jerked up, badly concealed hope in his dark eyes. "If he's teaching you the Academy katas, it's only fair."

"Yes!" Naruto punched the air and even Sasuke managed a smile, the turbulence of his chakra smoothing out into relief and a heart-wrenchingly hesitant happiness.

Sansa wished she shared their excitement at the thought of training, but as she looked over at them, she couldn't help but think of the broken bodies of children, of the mountain of bloody corpses she had clawed her way over to get to where she was, standing here before them. She thought of the pain and the suffering and she wanted to cry at the thought of teaching these children to become killers like her.

Sensing her shift in emotions, Naruto paused in his celebrations and excitement, looking over at her in concern.

Sansa took a deep breath. No, she told herself. No, she wasn't going to teach them to become killers. She had had no choice about the path they had been forced on– but she would teach them how to survive it.

"I won't shield you from the truth," she said quietly, drawing both Naruto and Sasuke's full attention. "A shinobi leads a cruel life. There is much pain and suffering that we are forced to endure."

And oh, it hurt, to refer to herself as a shinobi.

"I won't teach you to be killers," she continued, "because that is not my way. At my heart, at the heart of my people, our people, Naruto, shinobi are protectors. We are protectors."

"But that's not enough!" Sasuke burst out, an urgent sort of desperation in his dark eyes. "I need to be strong– I need to learn how to be a– a killer, because I need to k-kill Him."

Sansa's heart wrenched in her chest as she looked at him, really looked at him; at the glitter of unshed tears, the desperation, the barely hidden rage burning underneath. She remembered being Sasuke, once; she remembered having her family brutally slaughtered while she was left powerless to avenge them, just a stupid little girl.

"I will help you," she promised Sasuke, "I will help you grow stronger. But only once you've heard the truth."

"The truth?" Sasuke parroted, the confusion clear on his face. 

"The truth," Sansa said, very, very quietly, giving Naruto a look. He immediately hurried over to the wall, peeling back the corner of wallpaper to reveal the seal underneath. He bit his thumb, bloodying the skin to press against the seal. A moment later, the seal blazed gold, ensuring that no sound would escape this room and no one spying through the windows would think to read their lips– their minds would simply shift away from the conversations happening before them.

"What is going on?" Demanded Sasuke with growing anger and unease, his chakra a volatile, crackling energy inside him. Sansa was surprised when Naruto immediately moved back across the apartment to lean into the other boy, his chakra melding with Sasuke's the way it did hers, and was even more surprised when Sasuke calmed slightly, suggesting a greater sensitivity to ninshū. "What truth are you talking about?" Sasuke asked again, this time without raising his voice.

"The truth they are trying to hide from you. I was forbidden from telling you this under threat of being sentenced with treason against the village," Sansa admitted, remembering the debrief after meeting Itachi. "I could be executed if they find out." Putting the weight of this on a child was despicably cruel, she knew. And yet– "But you deserve the truth," she said softly. "And so does your brother."

Sansa watched as Sasuke's expression twisted up in pain and rage and reached up to cradle his face in her small hands, so pale they were for all the blood that stained them. Standing beside Sasuke, Naruto leaned into the boy, ready as a pillar of support.

"Itachi was given orders," she whispered, despite knowing the seals would prevent any sound from escaping the apartment.

Sasuke turned white.

"There was a coup being planned. The Uchiha were unhappy with the village leadership. I don't blame them," she admitted. She still believed a coup wasn't the right choice, not for the amount of innocent blood that would have flowed through Konoha's streets, but the Uchiha had been justified in their discontent. "I don't blame them for their discontent with the village leadership– I share a similar discontent myself– but a coup would have meant civil war and hundreds, if not thousands, of innocents would have died. That was why Itachi and Shisui went to the Hokage, looking for a solution– one that would lead to the least amount of bloodshed and peace within the village."

Itachi had revealed everything to her, in the hours they'd spent in her mindscape. And now, she told Sasuke. About the spying, the planning, about Shisui's Mangekyou Sharingan, about how Danzo stole it and most likely used it on Shisui, causing him to commit suicide. She then told him about the orders Itachi was given by Danzo. The civilian women and pre-Academy aged children could live, and so could Sasuke, so long as Itachi killed the rest.

She told him how the Sandaime knew of Danzo's actions and did nothing. How he hadn't given the orders himself, but he hadn't done anything to censure or reprimand Danzo in the aftermath. How he had allowed Itachi to be branded as an S class missing-nin at just thirteen years of age, leaving him a target without back-up, all alone in the world.

"You don't have to forgive your brother," Sansa finished heavily, still cradling Sasuke's face in her hands. He was a ghastly, sickly white, his expression frozen. "He did a terrible, terrible thing," she said quietly, "and he hurt you very badly, yet in the end, it wasn't truly a decision made of his free will."

A gasping sound tore out of Sasuke and he collapsed, his legs no longer holding him up. Sansa caught him and Naruto whined, pressing into Sasuke's side, clinging to him both physically and through his chakra. Sansa carefully lowered their bodies down so the three of them were kneeling.

Sasuke's whole body shuddered as violent sobs ripped from his throat; he sounded like he was dying. Sansa thought a part of him was, the last vestiges of any trust he had in the world. He had been betrayed by every authority figure in his life, every person he should have been able to trust, to rely on; his parents, for planning a coup, his brother, for murdering them, and the village, for ordering his brother to murder them and then looking the other way, allowing his brother to go down in history as a kin-slayer.

Sansa knew what it was to feel the sharp knife of betrayal, to feel the bite of its blade as it slipped between her ribs, to pierce her heart, had felt it too many times to count. But she was unsure if she had ever felt a betrayal quite as world-shattering as the betrayal Sasuke must be feeling. The foundations of his life that he had built from the ashes of his murdered clan had just been shattered into too many pieces to ever be fitted back together.

But Naruto seemed determined to try– and for Naruto, Sansa would try.

She hummed quietly, rocking the weeping boy in her arms as she used to rock her children when they were small and soft, before life had turned them sharp and cunning. It was an old Northern lullaby, as much a warning as it was soothing;

"Sleep sleep sleep
Don't lie too close to the edge of the bed
Or the grey wolf will come
And grab you by the flank...
And drag you to the forest...
Down under the weirwood roots*"

The North knew to teach their children caution, even as they sang them to sleep. In her arms, Sasuke's terrible sobs eventually slowed as he exhausted himself until he finally fell silent, slumped in her arms without the energy to lift himself up.

"Grab him something to sleep in," Sansa murmured to Naruto, who nodded quickly and scampered across the apartment to their lone wardrobe, returning moments later with jinbei she didn't recognise, the traditional set of kimono-style top and loose trousers a dark navy.

Between them, they managed to change the unresponsive Sasuke into his nightwear, Naruto sitting with him while Sansa did the same, then trading places. Once they were all in their nightwear, Sansa left Sasuke with his head in Naruto's lap, Naruto's chakra a gentle, protective blanket over the other boy, as she prepared dinner for them.

It wasn't anything fancy; Naruto was a far better cook then her, but she managed to boil the instant ramen Naruto was so fond of, as well as several boiled eggs, spinach and bean sprouts. Naruto pulled a face at the vegetables but didn't complain– Sansa dreaded the day he wised up to the falsity she'd told him about his "belly-fox" and Kurama's need for vegetables.

Sasuke didn't touch the ramen, which didn't surprise her. He was still largely unresponsive, which was concerning but also unsurprising, and Sansa just washed up from dinner, putting Sasuke's bowl in their fridge while Naruto pushed the couch to the side of the room so all three sleeping mats could be pushed together.

Sasuke didn't seem to have a problem with the encroachment on his personal space, as Naruto firmly pushed him into the middle, wrapping an arm around him and burying his face in the back of Sasuke's neck, while Sansa guarded his tender belly from any who would seek to attack in his sleep (though that may be her instincts talking). If anything, he seemed relieved, his chakra reacting even as he didn't, reaching almost desperately for Naruto's; they created a storm where they met, wild, twisting winds colliding with a flame that burned so searingly hot and bright that it sparked and crackled like lightning**.

"Ko-ane," Naruto asked quietly, "will you tell us a story?"

"Of course," Sansa said softly. "Once upon a time," she began, "there was a King. This King ruled an ancient land, as his ancestors had, for eight thousand years. But a Conqueror came, flying fire breathing monsters of legend, and he threatened to turn the Kingdom to ash, should the King not kneel before him and hand over his crown.

"And so, the King looked at his people in sorrow and fell to his knees before the Conqueror, surrendering his sword and his crown both and the Conqueror placed the crown upon his brow and declared himself King. But the man who had once been King knew better. For his ancient land could not be conquered and the Conqueror had angered the Old Gods when he tried.

"Once the Conqueror rode his fire-breathing monsters away from the kingdom, the once-King went to the sacred forest of the Old Gods and knelt before them. 'By my blood,' he declared, slashing his hand open and letting his blood drip onto the pale trunks, 'I vow my Kingdom will one day be free once more– and until that day, let the Conqueror and his descendants know no peace, for in their greed they have claimed what is not theirs to claim, they have taken what is not in their right to take.' And the Old Gods listened, for the once-King spoke wisely and truly.

"For three hundred years, the Conqueror's family ruled. And for three hundred years, they suffered misfortune and despair, their numbers cut down until they were banished and at last the once-King's descendants were free to rise up again, reclaiming their lost crown."

"Winter is Coming," Naruto said softly, meeting her eyes over Sasuke's dark head. Sansa smiled, even as her chest ached with old memories.

"That's right, my love," she murmured.

Sasuke hadn't moved during her retelling of Torrhen Stark kneeling and Robb Stark's crowning, but Sansa could feel the faint flicker of interest in his chakra, which was the most sign of life he'd shown so far.

"Can you tell the story about the Lady Samurai Brienne next?" Naruto asked and Sansa settled in for a night of story-telling, the gentle cadence of her voice setting Sasuke as at ease as was possible until eventually the boys fell asleep as Sansa could close her own eyes and rest.

Sasuke woke screaming during the night. This didn't surprise her. Sansa had disrupted Naruto's sleep more than once with her own nightmares, and considering everything that had happened in Kiri she was honestly surprised it wasn't her that had woken them all with her cries.

Naruto was already restraining Sasuke with a very firm cuddle, carefully pinning his limbs to stop him from flailing and hurting himself. Sasuke was panting hard, the whites of his eyes showing.

"He– he killed them," he wailed, his voice so raspy it was barely audible. "He killed them! I hate him!"

"It's okay, sweetling," Sansa said softly, leaning over to cup his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his. "You're allowed to, you're allowed to hate him." The gods only knew Itachi hated himself for what he'd done.

"I hate him," Sasuke sobbed wretchedly, "I hate him– he killed them, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him–"

"It's okay," Sansa whispered, her heart aching in sympathy. "It's okay to love him too."

Sasuke cried. He stopped fighting Naruto and curled forwards, his tears soaking into the curve of her neck as he clung to Naruto. "Why didn't he kill me too?" the boy sobbed. "Why did he leave me alive if it wasn't because I was too– too weak?" 

"Because he loves you," Sansa answered honestly.

"Then why did he hurt me? Why did he say I was weak?" Sasuke demanded, anger now colouring his voice through the thick tears.

Sansa hesitated. "I don't know," she said quietly, "he didn't tell me... but I suspect he wanted you to kill him, as atonement for what he did."

"And he thinks that will make things better?" Sasuke asked, incredulous and half-hysterical. "He thinks– he thinks him dying will make me feel less– less–" Sasuke didn't appear to be able to find the words to describe how he felt, instead dissolving into shuddering, choked off, enraged sobs. "He's so stupid!" The boy spat out, between sobs.

"He's alone and without any good options," Sansa sighed. "I think a certain degree of stupidity is to be expected. But you certainly won't find me disagreeing."

It was a miserable situation all around and there were no true words of comfort she could give. No explanations or answers that would ease Sasuke's mind. All she and Naruto could do now was be there for him.

~

* edited version of Russian lullaby 'Bayu Bayushki Bayu'

**rare forms of lightning can be sparked by extreme forest fires and volcanic eruptions.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR:

It was Sansa’s own nightmares that woke her before dawn’s first light. She lay on her sleeping mat, breath short and sharp, the memory of blood thick in her mouth; she wondered if she’d ever forget the horror of how it felt to tear out a throat with her teeth. She wondered if she even deserved to.

Protector, Mito had called her, and Sansa clung to that now with desperate need; she didn’t feel like a protector, she felt like a murderer, a monster, and even though she believed those deaths to be justified, even though she did not regret the lives she had taken in defence of herself and her team, she could not help but hate Konoha for ever putting her in such a position where it had become necessary.

Sansa forced herself to breathe evenly, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. Protector, she repeated to herself, over and over with each breath that she took, until she’d calmed enough that she didn’t feel as if she would fall into a fit of panic.

Finally sitting up, she looked over at the two boys beside her. Naruto was curled up and calm, his chakra at ease, but Sasuke was sleeping fitfully, restless and shallow. Sansa couldn’t help but question if she’d made the right choice in telling him the truth of the Uchiha Massacre. He was so young and the trauma of the massacre so fresh. Yet the thought of the lies the Sandaime had fed the boy was worse. She refused to be complicit in the vile deception, not when she remembered the tears of blood trailing down Itachi’s pale cheeks, not when the memory of his lost look made her heart ache with grief for him. No, she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret telling Sasuke the truth.

Sighing quietly, Sansa stood, careful not to wake the boys as she turned to her oldest comfort in times of stress– a piece of fabric, a needle and a thread– and lost herself in her sewing, using the light of the moon until it was replaced by the greying pre-dawn skies.

She’d been sewing for hours by the time the boys started to stir. Naruto was first to wake, accustomed to early mornings, and he was loud enough as he sat up and yawned that it woke Sasuke too.

Sansa could see the moment Sasuke remembered, the moment his face shuttered, his chakra heavy with his grief. Naruto nudged against him, leaning over to rub his cheek against Sasuke, who seemed startled by the show of affection.

“I’ll make breakfast,” her brother said decisively, standing and stretching before wandering over to the fridge, leaving Sasuke blinking after him, still startled. Sansa bit back a smile at his wide-eyed expression.

“Don’t worry,” she said lightly, “Naruto’s a much better cook then me.”

“Momo-neesan taught me lotsa stuff,” Naruto said proudly.

“Lots of stuff,” Sansa corrected and Naruto obediently repeated,

“Lots of stuff.”

Sansa thought it was probably a lost cause, trying to teach Naruto to speak without the street slang he’d picked up, but her brother was a prince of Uzushio and she had sworn that one day he would be Uzukage; she at least had to try.

Sasuke stayed silent as Naruto prepared the small bowls of steamed rice, cups of miso, yakizakana– pan-cooked fish– and a small salad of finely sliced daikon and cucumber. While it was quite normal breakfast fare for the Elemental Nations, it was more than they usually bothered with and Sansa knew that Naruto had made the extra effort for Sasuke and she was proud of him.

She was relieved to see that Sasuke did eat his breakfast after skipping his dinner– the Old Gods knew she’d missed enough meals during her time as hostage in the Red Keep out of grief for her family.

“Sasuke,” she said, once they’d finished the meal and Naruto had carefully carried the dishes to the sink while she’d checked the privacy seal was still activated, “I apologise, but we need to talk.”

Sasuke looked pale and drawn, but he nodded. Sansa wasn’t quite sure how to start, and in the end she decided not to blunt her words, but to give the boy the truth, one no child deserved and yet it was possible all their lives depended on.

“No one can know you are aware of the truth of what happened to your clan,” she said quietly. “If the Hokage even suspects… we could all be killed.” For she did not doubt one moment that the Hokage would see them all dead to preserve the lie. “You must understand– Shimura Danzo’s known actions have already shaken the trust of both the civilians and the clans in the village leadership. If it becomes known that Danzo ordered the execution of an entire clan and the Hokage did nothing…” Sansa shook her head. “I cannot even begin to imagine the consequences–the Hokage knows that he cannot allow the truth to get out. I am not saying that we can never speak the truth of what happened, but we are not yet strong enough. We would not survive the fall-out.”

“So we’ll get stronger,” Sasuke said, his dark eyes burning. “We’ll get stronger and we’ll burn down everything that bastard ever cared about.”

Sansa smiled back at him, soft lips pulled back to bare sharp teeth as Naruto grinned, all fox-sly and cunning.

“Yes,” she said, “yes, we will.”

~

Sansa left the boys in the apartment as she went to buy new fabric. She had a seamstress to impress, after all, now that she had fulfilled her half of the deal she’d made with the Hokage and she was free to seek out the apprenticeship she had been denied now over three and a half years ago.Sansa didn’t know if Inaba Shiori, the seamstress, would still be interested in offering the apprenticeship now or if she’d forgotten Sansa entirely after she’d disappeared and never returned, but she hoped if she could create something truly spectacular and unique then Shiori would, perhaps, give her a chance.

She made sure to seek out the stores over which the Haruno circle was stamped to make her purchases, knowing they would not dare reject her, even when they burned with resentment at having to sell to her.

She had just exited one of the stores where she had selected from a beautiful swatch of fabrics when Haruno Ayaka made her appearance. Breathtaking in her pale green layered kimono with its soft-pink cherry blossom embroidery, her amber-orange hair piled elegantly above her head, Sansa wondered which of the Haruno stores had sent a messenger off to alert Ayaka to Sansa’s reappearance in the village– and why Ayaka had decided to take the time out of her day to greet her.

Ayaka had a beautiful smile on her lovely face as she stopped beside Sansa. “Uzumaki-sama,” she said, “I am delighted to see you.”

“Haruno-san,” Sansa smiled back at her. “The pleasure is mine.” It wasn’t even a lie, not truly. She did enjoy the company of the Haruno council representative, a civilian who stood her ground against the shinobi who could kill her easier than they breathed.

“Please,” Ayaka said, “won’t you walk with me? It’s such a beautiful day.”

Sansa agreed.

“I truly am delighted to see you,” Ayaka said, as they walked. The sun had truly risen now, high and bright where it shone above them in the clear sky. The streets had started to fill, yet nobody stood in their path as they moved along the cobblestones. “I was quite concerned.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Sansa said, meaning it. “The Exams were… an experience, certainly, but I am glad to have returned to my brother.”

She did not say she was glad to return to Konoha. The shine of laughter in Ayaka’s sea-glass green eyes said that the other woman had noticed, though she did not say anything.

“News of your promotion has already begun to spread, as you can imagine,” Ayaka said.

“Yes,” Sansa said dryly, thinking of her rather spectacular final match and managing not to wince, “I imagine it did.”

“Such news does not remain quiet,” Ayaka agreed. “Did you know the Haruno Merchant Clan once had a branch in Uzushio?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t,” Sansa said, startled. Ayaka was still smiling, but her eyes had sharpened, sea-glass splintering to reveal its razor-edges.

“Yes, Konoha does not care to educate her youth on her greatest shame, does she?” she murmured, just loud enough for Sansa to hear, but no one else, before returning to her normal volume. “That branch of our family was slaughtered along with all of Uzushio’s civilians.”

“You have my sincerest condolences,” Sansa told her, quite honestly, and Ayaka nodded her head gracefully.

“What do you plan to do now?” the other woman asked her.

“As part of my deal with the Hokage, once I achieved the rank of chūnin I am permitted to seek an apprenticeship with a seamstress,” Sansa said and she could see the surprise on Ayaka’s face. “When I was younger, before I was taken by Elder Shimura, I used to do quite a bit of the sewing at the orphanage and eventually the head of the orphanage helped me to get an apprenticeship with the seamstress Inaba Shiori,” she explained. “I’m hoping that Inaba-san will still be interested. I plan to create several pieces that display my talents.”

“The dresses you wear to the council meetings,” Ayaka said thoughtfully, something sharp and interested in her eyes, “you tailored them yourself?”

“I did,” Sansa confirmed and Ayaka nodded.

“I will join you when you speak to Inaba-san,” she said. “She purchases her materials from the Harunos and my presence will ensure she gives you a fair chance. I do not doubt you will impress her.”

“Thank you,” Sansa said sincerely and Ayaka smiled, surprisingly warm.

“You are very interesting, Uzumaki-sama,” she said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met someone quite like you. You truly do live to defy expectations.”

Sansa laughed. “That is not the first time I’ve heard that,” she said.

“And I would wager it will not be the last,” Ayaka said, with good humour.

Having finished her shopping, the sun’s height indicating that it was near midday, Sansa felt she had given the boys the time they needed and returned to the apartment, only to find Jiraiya waiting outside the apartment building.

“What are you doing here?” she asked coolly, pretending that her heart wasn’t speeding in her chest, thoughts of being summoned by the Hokage, of having been found out for revealing the truth to Sasuke, flooding her mind.

Her hands felt numb.

Jiraiya looked uncomfortable and his chakra reflected that, doing nothing to ease her discomfort.

“I have to leave,” he said and Sansa wanted to sigh in relief, though she kept her expression fixed.

“Duty calls, I presume,” she said. She hadn’t been expecting him to stay past the Chūnin Exams. She wasn’t sure why he was here, telling her what they both knew.

Jiraiya nodded, his expression strained. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “yeah, it does. But… I was hoping I could write to you. My summons can deliver the letters.”

Sansa looked at him, confused. “Why?” she asked. Jiraiya looked exhausted.

“Because you’re my goddaughter?” he said. “Because I’m an idiot and I regret not keeping in touch with you until now and I don’t want to lose touch with you and Naruto again?”

Sansa thinned her mouth as she wondered what was behind this sudden urge to keep in contact. Was the Hokage suspicious, perhaps, and wished to keep a closer eye on her, however he could?

“You may write,” she said. “I cannot guarantee I will always write back.” Here she smiled, sharp and mean. “I may be busy, after all. So much to do, so little time for keeping in contact.”

Jiraiya winced at her reference to his earlier abandonment of them but he still nodded. “Thank you,” he said and Sansa nodded shortly before walking past him, with all the grace and poise that her small form could manage. She did not look backwards.

~

Sasuke… didn’t know how he felt.

Empty. Hollow. Like all his ribs had been cracked open and his insides had been clawed out, leaving only weeping wounds behind, wounds that cut so deep there was no feeling. Just numbness.

Itachi had killed his clan. If Sasuke wanted to avenge his clan, he had to kill Itachi.

This was what he had known, what he had built himself up around after his entire world had come crashing down and he had been stripped of everything that made him who he was– loving brother, loyal son, second-born to the clan head.

Except it was wrong.

Itachi had killed his clan, that hadn’t changed. But the responsibility had changed. Itachi had been the kunai, but not the wielder. No, it was Shimura Danzo who had wielded the kunai that took the lives of his clan. And the Hokage had done nothing but nod and approve Shimura’s actions. Had let Itachi be branded as a clan-killer, a kin-slayer, a missing-nin. A traitor, disloyal, cold-blooded.

Fuck. That.

A visceral hate boiled inside Sasuke, like molten fire in his veins, an inferno burning in his chest, and he choked on the ashes, hands fisted at his sides, nails cutting so deep into pale flesh that droplets of his blood stained the floor of the apartment.

“Hey,” Naruto nudged him, jolting him from his rapidly darkening thoughts, “c’mon, we can’t stay here– Iruka-sensei’ll find us too easy. Unless you wanna go ta the Academy today?”

Sasuke shuddered at the very thought; dealing with the Academy was trying at the best of times. His whole body cringed at the thought of having to face all those girls in his class when feeling this raw, all that screeching and clinging, the same girls who would steal his things, break into his closet and touch his body, not caring how he felt. He hated them. It was one of the best parts about staying with Naruto– they didn’t know where to find his clothes anymore.

None of the senseis at the Academy did anything about it either. They all thought it was ‘cute’, that it was just a phase the girls were going through– apparently being ‘broody’ after his brother slaughtered the majority of his kin made him ‘cool’ and that was attractive to prepubescent female children. Sasuke didn’t care if it was a phase– he just cared that nobody seemed to care how they violated his space, his privacy, his belongings, his body.

It was such a shame that Konoha frowned on their shinobi killing their comrades.

…well, they were supposed to, anyway. Apparently if a clan was considering a coup, it was fine to slaughter all the shinobi, shinobi-in-training, children of shinobi, husbands and wives of shinobi, relatives of shinobi, and elders.

“Let’s go,” he said abruptly. It didn’t take long for him and Naruto to change. Not a moment too soon, apparently, as Naruto suddenly tilted his head.

“Shit,” the blond swore, “I can feel sensei on the stairs.”

Feel?

Sasuke didn’t have time to be confused– not when Naruto was opening the window of the third story apartment and climbing out of it, as if that was something even approaching normal!

Sasuke rushed after him, eyes widening as he saw how Naruto was clinging to a drainage pipe, using it to scale up the side of the building. Gritting his teeth, he awkwardly clambered out the window, fingers digging into the crumbling concrete that bordered the window sill even as he slid the glass shut.

He refused to look down as he reached for the drainage pipe, his entire stomach plummeting as he had to jump over from the window sill to grab it. His heart thudded against his ribs as he clawed his way up the metal, fiercely ignoring how it scraped and shifted with his movements. Apparently the Academy had been good for something, though, because he managed to climb the pipe all the way to the roof, an entire two stories, and Naruto greeted him there, eyes bright and gleaming, teeth white and sharp as he bared them in a foxy grin.

“You’re insane,” Sasuke told him flatly and Naruto laughed.

“Sensei never thinks ta look up,” he said smugly.

“Insane,” Sasuke repeated, but it wasn’t like he didn’t already know that about Naruto. Naruto’s eyes flashed with mischief.

“Ready ta jump?” he asked and Sasuke felt his own eyes widen as Naruto gestured to the roof of the next building, just over a meter from this one.

“I’m going to die,” he said weakly.

“Nah,” Naruto laughed, endlessly cheerful in a way that should annoy Sasuke – except he couldn’t deny that if Naruto had meant to distract him from his earlier dark thoughts, it was certainly working. “ANBU’ll catch us if we fall,” the blond said confidently.

Sasuke felt his stomach lurch and he had to stop himself from automatically looking around, searching for the shinobi in animal masks apparently lurking around, watching them.

(Watching to see if Fuyuko had told him)

(Watching to see if they needed to slit his throat, to let him bleed out in the dirty streets of the Yūkaku, just another forgotten corpse, another unsolved murder)

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” he said, mostly to distract himself before his thoughts spiralled even further, already imagining the empty condolences the Hokage would pass on to his surviving clan.

(Would they even pretend to grieve? Would they even bother to hide their relief?)

“Yup,” Naruto agreed, not even ashamed.

Of course he wasn’t. Sasuke didn’t think Naruto even knew what ‘shame’ was.

“You fell off a roof,” he said flatly.

“Jumped off,” Naruto corrected, as if that made it any better.

It didn’t.

“And it ain’t like I fell,” Naruto continued, “I caught the other side – but I was kinda jus’ danglin’ there,” he scratched a whiskered cheek, looking sheepish.

Sasuke honestly just didn’t even have words.

“’S easy now, though,” Naruto ‘reassured’ him, before literally bolting for the edge of the roof of the apartment building. Sasuke thought he might throw up from sheer nerves as he watched Naruto hurl himself over the edge, only to easily clear the distance between the two buildings.

“What am I even thinking?” he whispered to himself as he angled his body, ready to follow.

The answer? He wasn’t. He definitely wasn’t thinking.

But as he watched Naruto, bright and cheerful and waving for him, he couldn’t stop himself from steeling his nerves and running after his blond classmate– taking a flying leap of faith.

~

A/N: Hey guys! I know I don’t technically owe an explanation, as this is fanfiction, not a paid book or anything, but you've all been so supportive so I want to let you know that the reason for the massive delay is a combination of the fact I’ve had placements at uni and I was put on a new medication that basically made me feel like a vegetable. I lost all creativity. I could sit at a keyboard for hours and literally not write a thing, or it would all be shit. I’m off it now, so here’s hoping that my brain starts working again! xx

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE:

The Hatake were loyal.

It was why the clan joined Konoha– Senju Hashirama was the grandson of Hatake Mitsuki and when the Senju proposed their idea to rally the clans together, the Hatake had cautiously agreed to side with their kin.

That loyalty was also why Konoha was responsible for killing the clan– the Hatake were loyal, and once they gave the village their loyalty they fought to their last breath to defend it, throwing themselves between fallen packmates and any threat.

Kakashi was a Hatake born and bred, loyal to the village that had made a murderer of him before even his sixth birthday. War had only made the blood staining him soak too deeply into his skin to ever be scrubbed away, yet he never flinched from his duty. His village had turned him into a weapon and Kakashi had submitted to it, bowing his head and barring his throat to the Hokage, following his orders, letting hands that knew only death serve to protect his village, even when serving Konoha cost him everything he had ever cared for, ever loved, before even turning fifteen.

The Hatake were loyal and Kakashi was a Hatake and he was loyal.

And then the village threatened Fuyuko.

Konoha had his loyalty, but Fuyuko was Pack and Pack was what kept a Hatake alive.

When Kakashi lost his father, Minato had become his Pack; Minato, who was charismatic and clever and drew people to him; Minato, who may not have felt emotions the same way most people did, but who had claimed Kakashi as his without hesitation and had then treated him as such, housing him and training him, letting Kakashi scent him and borrow his clothes so he could curl up in the ink-sharp-cool scent that meant safety-home-pack.

When Minato had taken salt-fury-flames Kushina as his mate, Kushina who Kakashi once saw tear out an enemy nin's throat with her teeth and laugh as blood ran down her chin, who hugged him with tight, greedy hands and let him scent her without hesitation, who let him rest his ear against the curve of her stomach as it swelled with her cubs, she had become his Pack too.

Kakashi would have killed or died for either of them. Just as he would kill or die for their cubs, for Fuyuko and Naruto, without hesitation. The twins were his Pack now; he had claimed them as his from the moment Kushina's scent shifted to that milky-cub scent, and the twins had claimed him back, had called him Pack even before truly knowing him. They had his loyalty, beyond any other alive– beyond the Hokage, beyond Konoha, beyond all of his comrades, and Sarutobi had sent Fuyuko to die.

Kakashi would never forget that betrayal. That was the moment the loyal soldier Inu had died and there was nothing Konoha could do, nothing Sarutobi could do, that would ever bring their loyal hound back to heel. He owed them nothing and he would give them nothing. Not anymore. He was the last of the Hatake and now the Hatake had lost their loyalty to Konoha.

It was only the knowledge that Fuyuko was alive and the sense of responsibility he still felt for Tenzo, his kohai (his almost-Packmate), that kept Kakashi on-mission long enough to kill the onmyōji. It wasn't a clean kill. He was intercepted by an oniwaban after slitting the onmyōji's throat and the resulting fight was violet and bloody. The shōgun's agents were among the best, even if they would never be ranked in a Bingo Book and their blank masks made it difficult for the Hidden Villages to identify them.

However good the oniwaban was, Kakashi was better– and he was a Hatake fighting with the protective fury of the Pack. He defeated the oniwaban, killed them so they couldn't report back to the shōgun, then slaughtered his way through the Earth Daimyō's guards that had been summoned by the disturbance caused by the fight.

He left almost three dozen dead in his wake as he escaped the Daimyō's Palace, henging to hide the blood soaking through his armour to his skin– most of it from the dead, some his own.

His ANBU team met him outside the Earth capital city. It was on high alert and the gates had been locked down, so Kakashi had been forced to add the patrolling guards to his kills in order to escape the confines of the city. He didn't care, too accustomed to ending lives to be bothered by the body count.

"Hokage-sama isn't going to be happy," one of Team Ro observed, stiff and unhappy and not trying to hide it. Kakashi had been the only one to carry out the assassination– it had been a risk and outside of mission parameters. Only Tenzo had known that Kakashi planned to slip away to complete the mission ahead of schedule and not according to their careful plan of infiltrating the Daimyō's Palace without being caught.

A bloodbath was to be avoided at all costs.

Kakashi just didn't care.

"We're leaving," he told them. They were already packed, ready to go.

"Do you need healing, taicho?" Tenzo asked and Kakashi shook his head sharply. He could deal with his wounds when they'd put distance between them and the city.

Running hurt. It tugged on his cuts which still bled sluggishly and Kakashi was forced to grit his teeth through the pain, changing the bandages while still moving. He wouldn't let Team Ro stop, pushing further and faster. They didn't understand, he knew. He just didn't care. Every moment he was away from Konoha, he felt the fear within him grow, the wolfish part of him snarling and snapping its impatience and anger, tense and furious. Konoha wasn't safe for Fuyuko or Naruto, so he needed to be there, to protect his Pack.

After nearly three days of running without sleep, they arrived back at Konoha. Kakashi didn't even bother with the pretence of returning to the Hokage first to report on the mission. Instead, he veered straight for the Yūkaku, where Sarutobi had seen fit to house Minato and Kushina's children.

He didn't even think about how he would look; ANBU mask in place, armour soaked in blood as he scaled the steps of the apartment building. He just pushed the apartment door open, already searching for his cubs.

There were three children in the apartment. One of them was vaguely familiar; he had that faint crackling scent of all nin with a lightning affinity, and the dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin of an Uchiha. Kakashi noticed how his scent soured in terror and panic, but dismissed it, turning to the other two children.

Naruto was sunshine and salt and fox-musk; golden-bright and too-thin, but still smiling with bright, sharp teeth.

Next to him, Fuyuko was frost and fox-musk and flowers; all pale, wintry skin, her hair a spill of blood over the white tunic she was dressed in.

Fuyuko's eyes met his– the blue of deep, unsettling oceans to drown in– and then she was on her feet, darting across the room as he knelt, opening his arms. Fuyuko half-crashed into him, her face pressing against where his heart beat solidly in his chest. Her shoulders trembled slightly as he held onto her with tight, desperate hands, able to feel her shifting bones under his palms, the round shape of her joints, the shiver of her spine.

Naruto collided into Kakashi's other side, Kakashi shifting his grip on Fuyuko to open his arm just in time to hold him too; Naruto buried his face into the curve where Kakashi's neck met his shoulder, latching onto the skin there with his teeth, desperate little cub. Kakashi let out a quiet rumble, moving his hand up to the back of Naruto's neck to grip lightly, feeling as the small boy went boneless against him.

Kakashi stayed kneeling there for a long time, holding his cubs, breathing in their scent. They were alive, they were safe, they were his. He would protect them, he would keep them from harm.

The little Uchiha watched from the couch, legs curled up to his chest, dark eyes cautious and uncertain, though his scent had lost that sour fear from Kakashi's entry into the apartment.

It was Fuyuko who pulled away first.

"You're hurt," she said, and Naruto let out a panicked whine, pulling back from where his sharp teeth were still worrying at Kakashi's skin.

"Anija*?" he demanded, "are ya hurt?"

"I... might be," Kakashi admitted. Mostly because his vision was beginning to grey around the edges and he was so exhausted his hands were trembling and he'd stopped feeling any pain from his wounds a full day ago, which he knew was never a good sign.

He just couldn't bring himself to care. Not when he had his cubs in front of him.

"Naruto, Sasuke-kun, why don't you try and help anija clean up a bit?" Fuyuko suggested. "I'm going to go fetch Kabuto-kun."

Kakashi didn't recognise the name. He also growled slightly at the thought of Fuyuko leaving his sight but she sent him a sharp look, those deep, drowning-blue eyes as commanding as Minato's had been, and Kakashi found himself relenting almost immediately.

Watching her leave was still painful. It was only Naruto's presence, and the knowledge that of the two, Naruto was less able to defend himself, that held Kakashi in place.

The Uchiha– Sasuke, Itachi's little brother– didn't seem comfortable approaching him, which Naruto seemed to recognise as he instructed Sasuke to heat some water as he carefully helped Kakashi strip off his armour, now encrusted with dried blood, and rid himself of the ANBU mask. Kakashi wasn't bothered by his nakedness, years of being a shinobi had stripped any body shame from him, and Naruto didn't blink at it either, only frowning at his wounds before helping Kakashi into the shower. The water was cold, which made him hiss– both in anger at the landlord and at the temperature. He didn't stay under there long, only until the water draining at his feet ran from reddish brown to murky pink to clear. 

Some of the wounds had reopened under the spray of the water and Kakashi blinked tiredly as blood oozed down his skin, soaking into the towel Naruto offered him. He wrapped the towel around his waist after drying the best his weary limbs would allow and followed his cub back to the couch, sitting down heavily before pulling Naruto after him, so his cub was curled into his side. Naruto snuggled under his arm, making happy-cub sounds, and Kakashi could almost relax as he waited for Fuyuko to return.

When she did, it was with the stranger he assumed was Kabuto. Kabuto was a boy, older than her– by about five or six years, he'd guess. The boy had ash-grey hair and dark eyes half-hidden behind dark-rimmed glasses. He was smiling, but it was an empty smile, with no emotion behind it.

"Anija, this is my teammate from the Chūnin Exams, Yakushi Kabuto," Fuyuko introduced the boy. "Kabuto-kun, this is my older brother, Hatake Kakashi."

There was a certain possessiveness in Fuyuko's voice as she called Kabuto her teammate. Kakashi nodded slightly. He understood the deep bonds that could be formed in combat– particularly in a team that had been sent to die but had clawed their way to survival instead. He didn't doubt that Fuyuko and Kabuto had seen the worst of each other during their time in Kiri, and yet Fuyuko had brushed her hand against Kabuto's wrist during her introduction, and Kabuto glanced down at her in response, his empty smile softening into something more real as he did so.

"Anija, Kabuto-kun is a talented medic-nin," Fuyuko told him, "he can help you. Will you let him?"

As a rule, Kakashi didn't like medic-nins. Most of them were useless in combat and cost the lives of their teammates who had to defend them. He also hated how they treated shinobi in hospitals, as if their patients didn't have very real fears of being vulnerable around strangers, instead of just being difficult patients for the sake of being difficult. But Fuyuko trusted Kabuto; she had brought him into her home, where she and her beloved little brother lived, and now she was trusting him with Kakashi's health. 

If Fuyuko could place her trust in him, then Kakashi could bring himself to allow the medic-nin to heal his injuries.

He nodded once; short, sharp, and Kabuto approached slowly, clearly projecting each of his movements as his hands lit up with the gentle green glow of healing chakra. 

For all his youth, Kabuto was just as talented as Fuyuko had claimed he was. He calmly and concisely narrated to Kakashi each of his actions, requesting permission for every step of healing. His chakra was cool and slippery, almost; it slid under Kakashi's skin like a scalpel so sharp that his flesh split painlessly under its edge. It wasn't unpleasant and Kabuto's manner did more to set him at ease then most medic-nin ever managed. 

Kakashi wasn't surprised to hear that two of his ribs were cracked, or that several of his cuts had become infected. "It hasn't led to blood poisoning yet," Kabuto told him, "but another day and you'd be looking at a hospital stay."

Kakashi just nodded shortly.

It took Kabuto a little under an hour to finish healing him. When he finally stepped back, Kakashi could barely keep his eyes open.

"Your body is fatigued and sleep-deprived, and I'm prescribing at least a week of rest to recover from the infection, but otherwise you're healthy." Kabuto said. Kakashi dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement and Kabuto turned to Fuyuko. "I have to return to the hospital to finish my shift," he told her, "are we still on for dinner with Chiyoko-chan tomorrow?"

"I'll let you know," Fuyuko said and Kabuto nodded, giving everyone a polite smile before leaving the apartment, his footsteps as silent as any skilled shinobi. Naruto brought him a blanket and helped Kakashi tuck it around himself, leaning in to nuzzle his cheek against Kakashi's before returning to Sasuke's side. Kakashi waited then for Fuyuko to lock the door to the apartment and– much to his approval– activate a series of trap seals before gesturing for her to come over. Fuyuko's mouth quirked slightly but she still crossed over to him, crawling up onto the couch. Kakashi stretched out, pulling her down so she was curled up across his chest, and closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to fall asleep, knowing that his pack was with him and safe.

He wasn't sure how long he slept. It was a dreamless sleep, a rare event that only ever occurred when he had truly exhausted himself. He woke eventually to the sound of low voices and when he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of brilliant, vivid red hair, spilled out across his chest and neck.

"Morning," Naruto chirped, from over by the stove. Kakashi sniffed the air, turning his head to see the sunshine-bright blond standing with a frying pan, Uchiha Sasuke next to him, and Tenzo leaning against the wall. His kohai smiled slightly at him, the slant of his shoulders relaxed enough that Kakashi was confident the Hokage wasn't about to send an ANBU squad to break into the twins' apartment and drag him out to report on the colossal fuck-up of a mission.

Uchiha Sasuke's continued presence was interesting. He was standing very close to Naruto and now that Kakashi wasn't quite so single-mindedly focused on the twins, he could see that there were signs of a third person living in the apartment, from the extra pair of shoes by the door, to the third sleeping mat, neatly rolled up with the other two, to the addition of a photo of Uchiha Mikoto and Fugaku at the shrine where before there had only been three framed pieces of embroidery, one of the Uzushio spiral, one of a grey-furred wolf with yellow-gold eyes, and one of a red fox with nine tails in shades of red, orange, bronze and yellow, a collection of origami foxes and seashells, and a rock with the kanji for 'four' carved into it.

Kakashi didn't doubt for a moment that Fuyuko would have told Sasuke the truth about Itachi. Even if she hadn't, he suspected he might tell the child himself. Itachi was one of his– not pack, but one of his kohais. A boy he'd taken in, much like he'd taken in Tenzo, to train and care for and keep alive. The idea of letting Itachi's pack hate him was sickening to Kakashi– it went against everything the Hatake stood for.

"Breakfast is ready!" Naruto announced. Fuyuko made a small noise from her place sprawled out across Kakashi's chest before pushing herself up, yawning as she slid off him to stand. Tenzo moved over to Kakashi, pausing only to gently reach out and squeeze Fuyuko's hand, smiling down at her.

"Here, senpai," he said, pulling a sealing scroll from his pocket. "I brought you clothes."

"Ah," Kakashi said, remembering he was still wrapped only in a blanket. "Thank you."

He changed in the bathroom into a jounin uniform he must have left at Tenzo's before joining everyone else again. There was no table to eat at, so they all sat in a circle on the floor, the bowls of fried eggs on rice balanced on their knees. Naruto happily chattered up a storm, coaxing answers from the rest of them as he spoke about everything from his interactions with the local yakuza to the senseis at the Academy to the upkeep of the shrine he and Fuyuko prayed at.

It was shockingly domestic, something Kakashi didn't remember experiencing since before that terrible night when Minato and Kushina had been ripped away from him, and he felt a tension he wasn't even aware of ease from his bones as he settled in, content to be surrounded by his pack.

~

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Naruto eyed Sasuke cautiously as they approached the Academy. The other boy's face was blank and motionless as a carved statue, his eyes as lifeless as cut glass; even his chakra was too still under his pale skin.

Naruto didn't like it.

Sasuke was supposed to be crackling fire that tasted of lightning storms on the back of Naruto's teeth. He was supposed to be bright, burning passion and brilliant bursts of colour, not washed out and empty.

"Take care of him," Ko-ane had said before they left the apartment, speaking to him in their special language. She had kept her face clear as Sasuke watched on in confusion, but Naruto could feel the old pain-hurt-grief twisting in her chakra. "He's just learned that he's a hostage in this village, his only use as leverage over his brother and as a future stud for breeding. He's been betrayed by everyone he trusted. We're all he has."

Naruto knew bits and pieces of Ko-ane's past, from before she had been Ko-ane. She'd told him stories, when he was smaller, of Queen Sansa. That was how he knew that Queen Sansa had once been a hostage. That Queen Sansa had been sold to men for 'breeding'.

It made him angry. Naruto knew that Ko-ane was older than him, but she was still his twin sister and he loved her more than anything else in this entire world. He would do anything for her and it made the burning-fire-red chakra pour through him at just the thought of someone, anyone, daring to hurt her. Realising that Ko-ane saw part of herself in Sasuke just made him feel even more protective over the other boy than he already felt.

Naruto wasn't sure why he felt so protective over Sasuke. He'd always been aware of the other boy, even before the massacre– there was just something about the dark-haired Uchiha that had drawn his attention, a pull deep inside Naruto as his chakra reached out automatically for Sasuke's.

Naruto wasn't upset by it. He liked Sasuke and he liked the idea of being friends with him. It was just really weird.

"I wish we didn't have to go to the Academy," Sasuke muttered, finally breaking the silence that had settled so heavily over him since they'd left the apartment that morning.

Naruto grimaced. He didn't really like the Academy either– even if Iruka-sensei was okay, sour-Mizuki was shitty and mean. He used to just ignore Naruto and pretend he didn't exist, but after all the fuss with Danzo, he'd gotten real nasty. He was rough when pulling Naruto's limbs into position during taijutsu practice, and Naruto knew he wasn't even teaching him right because Sasuke showed him how to do the katas properly after. He also kept making Naruto run laps during class, even if he hadn't done anything wrong, and would lose Naruto's homework and assignments then lie to Iruka-sensei about it, saying that Naruto hadn't done them.

That didn't bother Naruto too much, really. He was used to adults outside of the Yūkaku being total jerks to him. But Iruka-sensei automatically believing sour-Mizuki, and not even listening when Naruto tried to explain...

That hurt. Naruto didn't even bother trying to defend himself anymore– he couldn't bear the hot, acid taste of disappointment, the churning in his stomach, as Iruka-sensei frowned down at him and scolded him for lying.

"I don't wanna go either," he muttered. "But we don't wanna look suspicious."

They'd already missed two days of the Academy, to give Sasuke time to grieve for his clan and his brother, and to rage at the Hokage and the village. Any longer and the Hokage might start to get suspicious about why Sasuke was avoiding the Academy, and if he thought that Sasuke knew the truth, then he'd definitely kill Sasuke, and he might kill Ko-ane too.

That could never happen.

Walking into the Academy, Naruto let the well-practiced shift settle over him, slouching his shoulders even as he donned a goofy smile and stomped his feet slightly as he walked, forgoing his previous silent, prowling steps.

"Hey Kiba!" he shouted 'cheerfully', waving to his classmate.

"Yo, Naruto!" Kiba waved back. "Iruka-sensei's pissed you've been skipping!" Naruto laughed loudly, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Ha! The future Hokage don't need ta go ta stupid baby ninja classes!" he boasted, puffing out his chest. Beside him, Sasuke shook his head slightly.

"Can't believe I ever fell for this," he murmured, near silently. Naruto turned his head so that only Sasuke could see his face and winked. Tama-neechan and the neesans at the Palace of Flowers had taught him well– there was no better actor, after all, than a whore worth her gold.

"Naruto!" That was Iruka-sensei's angry shout and Naruto turned back to face the approaching teacher with a mask of obviously false bravado that hid the very real amusement he felt underneath.

Iruka-sensei looked angry as he approached them, his chakra roiling irritably under his skin. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "And Sasuke too! I can't believe you! You've had a near-flawless attendance record, and suddenly you're skiving off?"

"We've been celebrating," Naruto announced, not having to fake his pride. "My sister's back an' she's a chūnin now!"

Iruka-sensei's eyes widened. "Oh, Naruto!" he exclaimed, all his anger rapidly disappearing. Naruto couldn't help the flare of warmth he felt– he didn't trust Iruka-sensei, he couldn't, but he also couldn't help the affection he felt for the teacher who tried so hard for him. That was probably why it hurt so much when Iruka-sensei still fell so short. "That's wonderful news," his sensei said warmly.

"She won th' whole Exam!" Naruto continued to boast, "Kiri didn' know what hit 'em!"

Iruka-sensei stiffened slightly. "Kiri?" he repeated, his voice just too tight to be casual. Naruto carefully did not smirk, or bare his teeth in vicious challenge, instead keeping the ignorant, beaming, boastful grin in place, as if he was entirely ignorant to the wider implications of what he had just said.

"Yup!" He gloated. "No one can beat an Uzumaki! She beat Kiri's ass!"

Iruka-sensei managed to force a smile on his face in the face of what he clearly believed was a child's ignorance. Did he really think that Naruto didn't know Kiri was one of the Hidden Villages responsible for destroying Uzushio? Naruto wondered, even as he continued to grin widely up at his sensei. Or did he just think that Naruto wouldn't care, about some distant village destroyed so long ago?

But Uzushio had never been just some old, forgotten village, not to him– Ko-ane had raised him with the knowledge that they were the last heirs of Uzushio, the last of the Uzumaki; that they had seastorms in their souls, and tides in their blood, and eddies in their hearts; that they carried on their shoulders the weight of the legacy of a once-great, now-shattered village, but that as long as they remembered Uzushio, Uzushio could not die– no matter how the other Hidden Villages might try.

Naruto hid his sharp teeth behind soft lips as he met Iruka-sensei's eyes, all childish innocence and obliviousness to hide his rage.

Iruka-sensei's smile was very nearly pained. "That's wonderful news," he repeated his earlier statement. "I'm very happy for you, Naruto, and for your sister. But don't think I'll let you miss any more class!" he threatened, clearly trying to steady himself. "You either, Sasuke!"

As Iruka-sensei chivvied them along into the classroom, Sasuke leaned into Naruto. "You're meaner than you look," he whispered.

"Yep," Naruto agreed. He would never turn down an opportunity to strip back the blinders people wore to Sarutobi Hiruzen and his choices. Iruka-sensei taught their class that the Sandaime Hokage was the God of Shinobi, that he was their wise and caring leader who they should trust and obey. Naruto took a vicious glee in tearing that reputation to shreds. Maybe Iruka-sensei would think twice now before blindly parroting what Ko-ane called "Konoha's propaganda to make the citizens believe the Hokage is somewhat competent". Or at least Naruto hoped it made the words taste like bitter ash in his mouth.

"Vicious and vindictive," Sasuke decided, his mouth curling up slightly in the corners, breaking that blank, emotionless mask as life sparked in his dark eyes.

"'S only the truth," Naruto murmured back, with a slight shrug, even as his mouth curled into a matching smirk, lips pulling back just enough to bare a sliver of teeth.

Sasuke's dark eyes glittered. "That's right," he said, quiet and intense. "It is the truth. And they can't take the truth away from us– no matter how hard they try."

They entered the classroom together and Naruto held back a wince as some of the girls started shrieking.

"Sasuke-kun!"

"Sasuke-kun!"

"Where have you been?"

"Sasuke-kun, come sit next to me!"

"No, sit next to me, Sasuke-kun!"

Sasuke scowled darkly, moving briskly over to one of the desks at the back of the classroom, next to where Shikamaru was slumped over his desk. Naruto followed after him, stepping neatly in between one of the clamouring girls and the free seat next to Sasuke and sliding down onto it before she could.

The girl scowled viciously at him. "Move!" she ordered, slamming her hands down on the desk. "I was here first!"

"Um," Naruto said, looking down at himself, sitting on the chair, then up at her. "No ya weren't?"

"Yes I was!" she practically screeched. "You pushed me! You stupid demon!"

Naruto felt a growl build up in his chest, rumbling in his throat. He had to swallow it down, knowing it would do no good here. He wondered how this spoilt little brat would feel if he showed her a true demon, if he brought out the burning-red-fire chakra and snarled in her face, but he pushed away the urge, knowing that sort of rage would do him no good. He almost wished he had at least flashed fiery-red eyes at the girl, though, as she continued to carry on instead of sitting down when he ignored her and sour-Mizuki came over. 

"What's going on here, Ami-chan?" he asked, practically dripping faux-concern.

"Naruto-baka pushed me and stole my seat!" the girl, Ami, immediately told their sensei, adding a sniffle just for good measure. Naruto was almost impressed, but mostly just felt frustrated. Sour-Mizuki immediately scowled down at him, glee-resentment-hate twisting in his chakra.

"Uzumaki! Detention!" he barked out. 

"She's lying," Sasuke said, voice flat and cold.

"Troublesome," Shikamaru muttered, still face-down on his desk, before sighing, "Yeah, she's lying."

Naruto didn't bother to hide his smug grin as sour-Mizuki visibly floundered. It was obvious that sour-Mizuki wanted to punish him, but at the same time, it wasn't as if he could just ignore the testimony of two clan heirs.

"Ami-chan, find a seat," he said finally. Not apologising to Naruto, of course.

"Fucker," Naruto muttered, as soon as the sensei was out of earshot and Ami had flounced off. Sasuke grunted his agreement and Shikamaru snorted quietly.

Naruto shifted his hand, hidden by the desk, to join with Sasuke’s, their fingers linking together, the whooshy-whirly-wild chakra inside him reaching out for Sasuke’s spark-bright-crackle. Sasuke squeezed his hand and Naruto turned his attention to the front of the classroom as Iruka-sensei started lecturing for the day.

He didn’t let go of Sasuke’s hand under the desk.

Sasuke didn’t let go either.  

~

Sansa met her teammates at the hospital. Chiyoko was being released today and she was eager to see the younger-older girl outside of the white-walls.

Chiyoko looked too thin, Sansa thought, watching as she tipped her head back and inhaled deeply as soon as she stepped outside the doors of the hospital, tulip-pink eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at the open sky. "I don't know how you work in there," Chiyoko told Kabuto. "I hate the smell. It's awful."

"I like it," Kabuto said, shoulders rising slightly in a half-shrug. "It reminds me of my adopted mother."

Sansa blinked, startled at the uncharacteristically open confession. Chiyoko's eyes widened as she turned to Kabuto, and Kabuto's mouth twitched slightly, the older boy amused at their reactions to his sudden disclosure.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked, the only one not too surprised to speak.

"How about our old training ground?" Sansa suggested, and as the other two didn't have any better ideas, that was where they headed.

They didn't train, of course. Chiyoko was fresh out of the hospital and none of them were dressed for it. Instead, they sat together under a wide-trunked Hashirama tree, Sansa leaning against Chiyoko, Kabuto slightly apart, his thumb idly tracing circles around Sansa's bare ankle, a touch that would have been so scandalously improper in Westeros.

"I don't even know who I am anymore," Chiyoko admitted, looking up at the stretching branches above them, reaching up to the pale blue of the sky, greyish clouds drifting across, blocking the sun. "My friends, my parents... they don't understand what I've been through. They don't understand what it's like to fight with death just a whisper away. What it's like to kill or be killed. 

"My sister called the scars on my stomach ugly– but when I look at them, I feel proud. They show me what I survived. They show me that I am strong. And–" here she twisted slightly, so she could face Kabuto, "they show me that you cared enough about me to scrap your plan to hide just how skilled you are, just to keep me alive. When I look at those scars, they show me I have a team. A team that, despite the fact we were sent to die, survived."

"Survival is never pretty," Sansa murmured. "It's ugly and desperate and everyone will judge you for the depths you sink to. But you should be proud– because you are strong. You are a survivor. And I never expected it, but we are a team."

"I left Konoha a stupid, ignorant little fool playing ninja," Chiyoko muttered, "and I came back a monster."

"Yes," Kabuto agreed. "You came back a shinobi."

Chiyoko snorted then laughed, the sound almost incredulous. "I can't tell if you're trying to comfort me or not," she said.

"He's right, though," Sansa said. "All shinobi are monsters. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar."

"Konoha is filled with liars," Chiyoko said bitterly.

"Is that news to you?" Kabuto asked and Chiyoko snorted again.

"No," she said. "Not anymore."

"Come over to my apartment for dinner tonight," Sansa said. "Both of you. I want you to meet my family."

"Okay," Chiyoko said, after a brief pause. "I'd love to."

Kabuto's pause was longer, but then he dipped his head. "I would be honoured," he said. And it sounded like he meant it, too.

~

Their apartment wasn't empty when Sansa returned. She wasn't afraid, though– she recognised the chakra. 

Inu, Kakashi, was back.

Sansa couldn't quite describe the relief she felt, knowing he had returned to Konoha. Not just because of her affection for him, but because of the safety he offered– he was the only near-adult in the village who she trusted had her and Naruto's best interests at heart. The only shinobi who she believed would defy the Hokage himself for their sake. There was a security in that, a relief– the weight on her shoulders no longer felt quite so crushing when she had someone to share it with.

Kakashi had spent the last night at their apartment and Sansa had allowed herself to be held, to feel protected, in his arms. Kakashi had been half-feral when he first arrived, stinking of dried blood and infection, barely speaking, but the desperation with which he'd clung to her and Naruto had told her everything she needed to know, far louder than any spoken words.

Kakashi had found out what happened with the Chūnin Exams– and he had panicked. 

Tenzo confirmed it, after Sasuke and Naruto left for the Academy that morning and two ANBU had arrived to escort Kakashi to the Hokage to give his report on the completed mission. Sansa would have been more concerned if Kakashi hadn't left looking like he was prepared to rip the Hokage's heart out with his bare hands if the old bastard didn't answer to his actions– he wouldn't be rolling over and baring his throat to any disciplinary actions against him, not for this. 

It had been mildly amusing, in a distant, tragic way, how starstruck Tenzo had sounded, describing the incredible violence Kakashi had wreaked in order to return to Konoha, blowing the ANBU team's deep cover so as to apparently slaughter his way through a Daimyō's palace. He really shouldn't have been giving her any of the information, but Tenzo still wore her (Danzo's) seal and with a little trickle of chakra, it was easy enough to coax answers from him. 

Sansa wondered if Tenzo even realised how loose his tongue was– or if he just trusted her and thought his uncharacteristic, illegal openness was an extension of that trust, and of his loyalty to Kakashi. 

It didn't matter either way, not truly. It just served to vindicate Sansa in her previously held opinion– Kakashi was hers. He was damaged and broken, but he was Pack; kin to Kushina, to Minato, older brother to Naruto, protector to her. 

Kakashi looked better as she stepped into their apartment. He'd had another shower, scrubbing away the last of the dried blood, and was dressed in clothes other than the jōnin uniform, the soft, loose folds of the yukata doing little to hide the hard, dangerous lines of his body– or the sharpness of the weapons strapped against his scarred skin.  

There was a small dog standing by Kakashi's foot and Sansa tilted her head slightly, vaguely recalling Kakashi's canine pack of summons from their escape from Konoha, after he killed Danzo. The pug was wearing a blue shirt with a heno-heno-moheji on its back and it blinked up at her with dewy eyes framed by little curling lashes. 

"Yo," it– he– said, voice startlingly gruff and deep. 

It really was a strange world, Sansa thought to herself, where talking animals didn't even startle her anymore.

"Hello," she greeted the pug politely, inclining her head slightly in lieu of the traditional bow.

"Ah, this is Pakkun," Kakashi said, a little awkwardly. He looked almost uncertain. Hesitant. Sansa waited with a patience borne of raising three strong-willed, intelligent children and Kakashi cleared his throat then spoke. "Pakkun is good company." He said.

Pakkun looked as amused as a dog could look.

"I couldn't really say either way," Sansa humoured Kakashi. Kakashi let out a sharp sound between his teeth, a quick exhale.

"He's a ninken," he said. "Not a battle-type, but that doesn't mean he isn't good in a fight. He's fast and strong and smart."

"Anija," Sansa said, partly because she liked how the title made Kakashi fluster, partly because she liked how it felt on her tongue, "why does it sound like you are trying to sell your ninken to me?"

Pakkun chortled as Kakashi turned an almost pleading look down at him. "He wants me to be your security detail," the small dog said, finally taking enough pity to put Kakashi out of his misery.

Sansa would have been more amused if she wasn't so suddenly disturbed at the knowledge that Kakashi thought she needed one.

"There's no new threats," Pakkun assured her, apparently able to read the sudden stillness of her body– or perhaps a shift in her scent.

"No new threats," Sansa murmured, wry and edging on bitter. It felt as if this village held nothing but threats; from the day she and Naruto had been born (or reborn, in her case), they had been under threat from the very citizens that they were being trained to protect, and now the very leader of the village wished her dead.

Kakashi stepped closer, his movements careful and slow, so as to be entirely nonthreatening. When she didn't react negatively, Kakashi crouched down in front of her, one hand gently moving to rest on her nape, his fingers spanning across the curve of her neck.

"I'll keep you safe," he promised, low and dark, the undertone of a snarl rumbling through his words.

Sansa breathed out slowly, let the tension ease from her limbs. Kakashi had disobeyed his Hokage, his king, had committed treason and fought battles and waded through rivers of blood, all for her and Naruto.

No one can protect me, she had believed for so very long. No one can protect anyone. But she also believed Kakashi.

"Pakkun-san and I will become very good friends," she said aloud and Kakashi visibly relaxed, a tension easing from his body at her unspoken acceptance– both of Pakkun acting as her security detail, and of his promise of protection. 

Only time would tell if he could keep it, when Konoha would inevitably force him to choose between his promise to her and the oaths he'd sworn to serve his village.

Sansa could only hope– could only believe– that he would choose her, and Naruto. That he would choose their Pack over the Hokage. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN:

Kakashi entered the Hokage’s office through the window. Sarutobi didn’t even look up from his paperwork, but Kakashi could feel the spike of increased attention from the three ANBU guards stationed in the office, all hidden from his sight but not from his senses.

The Hokage had been present at the earlier debrief of his disastrous mission in Iwa, along with the ANBU Commander, the T&I Head, the Jōnin Commander, and the Council of Elders. Kakashi had made a point of not addressing or answering the Elders– he would have done the same to the Hokage, if it didn’t risk him being executed for insubordination or treason. Because of that minor obstacle, the two Elders got to experience the brunt of his rage at both Fuyuko ending up in Danzo’s “care” and her being sent to Kiri. Interestingly, Inoichi had reacted much the same as Kakashi had with the Homura and Koharu. It spoke of a lack of unity– and trust– between the most important military figures in Konoha and the Hokage. Where once this would have concerned Kakashi, made him wary and prepared for bloodshed, now he just felt a righteous rage simmering in his blood and marrow.

As Sarutobi continued to ignore him, instead focusing on his paperwork as if he hadn't even noticed Kakashi enter his office, Kakashi considered taking out a kunai to clean his nails but decided the ANBU were twitchy enough as it was. He could take them, and they knew he could take them, and it was making them nervous.

Good.

Kakashi wished he had a book or something to flip through as he waited for Sarutobi to look up, making a note to himself for the future, and despite having the self-control and discipline to stand without moving for over twenty-four hours– he’d always hated those sorts of missions– he made a point of being purposefully obnoxious, wandering about Sarutobi’s office, poking at his belongings, rifling through the stack of completed paperwork waiting to be collected by the secretary, even pointedly straightening Minato’s portrait on the wall, overlooking the Sandaime.

“Can I help you, Kakashi?” Sarutobi finally asked, his voice tight with displeasure. Kakashi blinked innocently over at him as if he’d just noticed the Hokage was there, letting none of the rage he felt peek through his single visible eye. Sarutobi’s irritation was evident in the furrow of his brow and tightness of his mouth.

It was the little things that brought Kakashi joy. Truly.

Oh, the feral wolf in his soul was rabid with the urge to tear Sarutobi apart for his crimes against Kakashi’s Pack, to crack open the Hokage’s shattered ribs and devour his still-beating heart– the Hatake were hunters, predators, at the very core of their being, and not always of animals– but Kakashi had learned how to bury his wild, to hide his rage; once behind the rules and regulations of the shinobi handbook, and now under a mask that wasn’t just literal.

It was from behind that mask that Kakashi eye-smiled at the Hokage, a smile as empty as his loyalty to Konoha. “I’m here to announce my retirement from ANBU.”

He had Sarutobi’s full attention now. The Hokage’s eyes were hard and cold; there was no veneer of geniality, no wisened old grandfatherly figure here to guide the next generation. No, this was the man who earned the title ‘God of Shinobi’ not just due to his mastery of the five elements, but through the destruction he wrought during the Second Shinobi War, leading a squad to destroy five villages across Iwa and Ame in just three nights. The bases Konoha’s enemies had established in the villages made them legitimate targets of attack by the unspoken rules of war– but that excuse was paper-thin, and all the major Hidden Villages knew it. It was a brutal show of strength that helped end the war but at the cost of thousands of civilian casualties.

Sarutobi had done much to erase that part of his history, to instead be known as the ‘Professor’, but Kakashi knew better then to be fooled. He knew better then to forget the monster that slept with one eye open under the Professor’s skin.

“Why do you want to quit ANBU?” Sarutobi asked, as if they both didn’t know the answer.

Kakashi let his eye curve into an obnoxious eye-smile. 

“Well,” he said, “as I’m sure you remember, the law was that I couldn’t have contact with Fuyuko or Naruto until they graduated. Admittedly, Naruto hasn’t graduated, but Fuyuko is a chūnin, which practically means she's graduated twice, so I think that makes up for it.”

There was a razor-sharpness to his voice as he gave a voice to the topic that had been danced over in the earlier debrief– everyone present then had known Fuyuko was sent to Kiri to die. Sarutobi could claim his confidence in her ability to win, to give the other villages an undeniable show of Konoha’s absolute strength, and the wider shinobi populace would likely believe him, but all those in the meeting had known better. Had known exactly why Kakashi had blown the mission parameters in order to return to Konoha.

Fuyuko had been sent to die– but against the odds she had survived, and she had been promoted, and now Kakashi was leveraging that against the Hokage without even a hint of shame or hesitation.

It was an unspoken offer– Sarutobi allowed him to keep in contact with the twins, no more warnings about breaking the laws put in place to supposedly ‘protect’ them, and he allowed Kakashi to quit ANBU, and in return Kakashi let the matter of Fuyuko’s Chūnin Exams rest. Oh, it wouldn’t be forgotten, Kakashi would never forget the betrayal, but he could act the loyal soldier still– just not in its Black Ops under the direct purview of the Hokage, rather instead through the filter of Shikaku, the Jōnin Commander.

“Fine,” Sarutobi’s eyes were hard, cold. “Hand in your mask, Inu.”

Kakashi didn’t even hesitate. He pulled out the scroll tucked away in his thigh holster, activated the storage seal there to retrieve the porcelain mask that had defined his identity for over a decade now, and handed it across to the Hokage without hesitation.

He had thrown himself into ANBU after Obito’s death out of guilt. He had continued in ANBU, after Minato and Kushina’s death out of grief and guilt, as without access to the twins he’d had nothing to live for.

Now, everything had changed.

Now, he had Fuyuko and he had Naruto, and it was his duty to protect them– not Konoha.

~

Sansa spent the remainder of her day bent over her sewing, ignoring Sasuke’s occasional bewildered look once he and Naruto returned from the Academy as she pinned and cut and stitched the fabric. She planned to make Naruto something to wear to the Academy that wasn't that ghastly orange jumpsuit, though she admitted that it did serve its purpose. She also realised that she couldn't make something for Naruto without making something for Sasuke– not with his inadequacy issues, though she couldn't blame the boy for it. 

The work was soothing, keeping her hands moving in familiar patterns. It lulled her thoughts, almost like a form of meditation, as her confident fingers shaped and cut the fabric, putting in basting stitches to hold the layers together as she styled the cloth to her brother's measurements. It wasn’t until the sun started to sink that she sent Naruto and Sasuke off to fetch take-out from Naruto’s favourite ramen shop. She wasn’t surprised when Kakashi followed after the pair and trusted that he would keep her brother and Sasuke safe. She didn't have to ask if he was staying for dinner– she wasn't sure Kakashi was leaving her and Naruto's apartment any time soon.

Kabuto and Chiyoko arrived together, before the boys returned. “We don’t have guest slippers,” Sansa admitted as she opened the door wider to let them in. “We usually go barefoot or wear socks.”

Chiyoko looked surprised to hear this, the only one of them to have what Sansa assumed was a fairly standard family for a village run by mercenary killers who recruited child soldiers from their own populace. Kabuto didn’t even blink, easily stepping forwards into the apartment Sansa shared with her brother and Sasuke after toeing off his shoes.

“I like it,” Chiyoko decided, as she looked around the apartment. “Did you make the curtains?”

“I certainly can’t think of anyone in Konoha who would sell them,” Kabuto said, amused.

Sansa glanced over at the curtains stitched with orange gambolling foxes and Uzushio spirals and smiled wryly. No, there was certainly nobody in Konoha who would dare even try. Chiyoko, who had been drifting around the small, open space of the apartment, examining it with curious eyes, paused in front of the shrine, her gaze fixed on the embroidered Kyuubi no Kitsune. Sansa was particularly proud of that piece; of how she had captured the fiery, writhing tails, the snarl of the mouth, the inherent grace of the majestic Bijuu…

“I remember that night,” Chiyoko murmured.

I do too, Sansa thought. She remembered her newfound helplessness, how her frail, new limbs refused to cooperate. She remembered the courage of her mother, who had cut Sansa from her own womb with her own two hands. She remembered the ruthless dedication of her father, who had decided it was worth sacrificing his life for the sake of Konoha and carved open Sansa’s soul to seal Kurama within her. She remembered the man in the orange mask, with his spinning red eye she now knew was a Mangekyou Sharingan, who had stolen Naruto and used Kurama as his puppet. She remembered the Shinigami, the moment the Death God’s eyes met hers; a brief second, an everlasting eternity, where she witnessed recognition there.

She remembered that night. But, as she looked up from the shrine, to meet her teammates’ eyes- Chiyoko’s uncertain, Kabuto’s sharp, Pakkun perched on the couch and watching with his own, inscrutable dark eyes- Sansa didn’t admit to it. Of course she couldn’t. Only Naruto knew the true depth of her secrets, knew the soul that lived within this child’s skin.

“During the second stage of the Exam… that’s what it was, wasn’t it?” Chiyoko’s voice dropped to a low, hushed whisper. “After Kita-san was hurt… I knew it felt familiar.”

Sansa resisted the urge to wince at the memory of losing control, of Kurama’s chakra flooding her.

“It’s why the villagers treat you the way they do,” Chiyoko continued, still hushed. “You’re… you’re a Jinchūriki.”

A human sacrifice. Holder of a Bijuu. Container for the Greatest of the Nine.

“Does it bother you?” Sansa asked, curious. She couldn’t sense any fear in Chiyoko, or Kabuto for that matter. From his place on the couch, Pakkun remained silent.

“You said, during our team introductions, that you dislike foolish cowards who can’t tell a kunai from a sealing scroll,” Chiyoko said, her mouth pressed in a firm line. “I’m not a foolish coward.”

Sansa smiled softly, warmly, at her teammate, at a child forced to grow too hard, too fast, and stepped forwards to gently grasp one of Chiyoko’s hands in her own, squeezing gently.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

Kabuto brushed against her as he stepped further into the apartment and Sansa’s smile widened at his own, unspoken acceptance– though she was aware he had already known of the being she carried within her, she still found herself grateful for the implicit understanding now between them.

Her brother, Kakashi and Sasuke returned then with the take-out ramen, putting a halt to any further conversation– which was, perhaps, for the best considering the Sandaime’s ridiculous laws and Pakkun’s continued presence.

Kakashi, Sasuke and Naruto had all already met Kabuto, of course, but it hadn’t exactly been an optimal situation for introductions considering Sasuke had been about two breaths away from a panic attack at the sight of Kakashi wearing an ANBU mask and covered in blood, Naruto had been distracted by Sasuke’s terror and Kakashi’s injuries, Kakashi had been half-delirious with fatigue and injury, running almost purely on instinct by that point, and Kabuto had found himself suddenly amidst all their collective trauma.

Sansa thought it quite reasonable that she had subsequently put that less than ideal first meeting out of mind, pretending that this instead was Kabuto’s first impression of her family, her Pack.

Naruto, of course, charmed Chiyoko with his usual ease. Her brother had a natural charisma, and even with the ugly rumours surrounding the twins, people couldn’t help but be drawn to him. Kabuto, like Kakashi, seemed more comfortable observing then interacting, but Sansa appreciated that he made the effort to be present and polite. He even gave Kakashi a follow-up, checking that his earlier injuries were healing as they should be. Tenzo had shown up halfway through dinner, clearly awkward about the crowd that only barely fit inside Sansa and Naruto’s small apartment, but Kakashi had snagged him by his collar, like a dog scruffing a pup, to stop him from trying to leave.

Kabuto offered to walk Chiyoko home once dinner had finished, and Sansa walked with her teammates to the front of the apartment building, stepping outside into the cool evening air. Red lanterns lit up the windows around them, the Yūkaku bustling with activity now that inky black had replaced the earlier light blue of the sky, the sun long since having sunk below the horizon.

“You do surround yourself with interesting people,” Kabuto observed. “The Uchiha heir, the last Hatake, the only living mokuton user, and there are rumours of your association with Councilwoman Haruno Ayaka and the Root members currently being de-conditioned.”

“A good seamstress knows how important it is to build a diverse client base,” Sansa said with a sweet, demure smile. Kabuto nodded slowly.

“Yes,” he said. “I imagine they would.” He bowed slightly. “Thank you for hosting us this evening, Fuyuko-chan.”

“I can honestly say that meeting your family has answered at least as many questions I had about you as it’s raised,” Chiyoko added dryly, with her own bow and a warm, fond smile. Sansa laughed as she watched them leave.

“What a weird kid,” Pakkun observed.

“Are you talking about Kabuto, Chiyoko or myself?” Sansa asked, even as she turned around, making her way back to the apartment where her Pack waited.

“All of you,” Pakkun said decisively. “I’m definitely talking about all of you.”

And Sansa really couldn’t argue with that.

~

In the days that followed dinner with her team and her family, with Pakkun as her company, Sansa focused on her sewing projects.

For Naruto, she made a pair of practical deep blue trousers with a light fabric off white tunic stitched finely with a pattern of an ocean storm in blues and greys, the Uzushio spiral worked into the waves and winds. With its sturdy fabric and clean lines it would give him the movement he needed in the Academy.

For Sasuke, she made the same tunic and trousers, only to his measurements and using a dark navy colour, stitching over the chest the Uchiha fan in bold white and red, with more subtle Uzushio spirals and wolves worked into the hems with a navy thread only one shade lighter then the base fabric, visible only to the keenest of eyes– such as an Uchiha’s eyes.

She presented the boys with their clothes at the same time; Naruto was loud with his excitement, while Sasuke was very quiet but thanked her sincerely. She spotted him later running his fingertips over the Uzushio spirals on the hems and turned away to hide her small, satisfied smile.

With the boys now owning at least one pair of decent clothes, Sansa turned her attention to the sewing project needed to impress Inaba Shiori. She ended up deciding to create two dresses to display her talents in dressmaking; one in the traditional style of the Elemental Nations and one in a Westerosi style.

The Tully-blue kimono alternated between flowing and form fitting; the vibrant dye contrasted with the milky-pale skin of her throat, cinching tight around her waist with a red obi that fastened in a beautiful bow. The kimono itself she decorated with colourful embroidery of leaping trout and swirling eddies.

The Westerosi dress was a Stark-grey gown with long, full bell sleeves that hung along her slender arms. The waist was pulled tight in a corset embroidered with roses of white and blue before opening up in a flowing skirt that would allow Sansa to move easily.

It took her a little over a month to create them, as she did most of the work while Naruto and Sasuke were at the Academy. When they were home, she wanted to spend her time with her brother and his friend, and at their pleading she often took them to one of the many training fields where Naruto and Sasuke ran through katas together or Sansa walked them through chakra control exercises in preparation for learning ninjutsu. Sometimes Kakashi joined them, offering brief pieces of advice to the boys that they clung to, greedy for his wisdom and approval. Kakashi seemed to be around more, and Sansa wasn't sure why he wasn't being sent on so many missions but she was grateful for it.

She made sure to keep in contact with Chiyoko and Kabuto. Chiyoko’s physical therapy was progressing without complications, though it was hard to imagine any different under Kabuto’s capable care. Chiyoko planned on entering the Chūnin Corp after receiving medical clearance, while Kabuto had entered the ranks of the hospital staff rather than the sparse ranks of combat-medics.

“It’s an endless source of frustration to Head of the Medic Corp,” Kabuto said, with a small, satisfied smile, one afternoon in their old training field, the three of them lazing together under a Hashirama tree, Sansa's ever-present shadow of Pakkun giving her space and privacy while she was with her teammates. Chiyoko had just finished her physical therapy and was laying with her head in Sansa’s lap, while Sansa was leaning against Kabuto’s shoulder. He was idly twisting a strand of her hair between his fingers, almost like it was a garrote. “I told her I was traumatised by my experience in Kiri,” he said. “Now I’m expected to attend weekly therapy sessions.”

“Which are held in the T&I building,” Sansa noted, amused. “Where most of Konoha’s sensitive information can be found.”

Kabuto blinked ‘innocently’ at her from behind his glasses. “Is it?” he hummed. “I’m sure that would be convenient, if ever someone was looking for sensitive or confidential information and needed an excuse to be seen in the T&I quarters without raising suspicion.”

“Very convenient indeed,” Sansa agreed.

“With Fuyuko stirring up shit with the Council, and you doing whatever it is you’re doing with your sneaky spy skills, I feel like I need to aspire to something higher then Chūnin Corp,” Chiyoko mused.

Sansa’s first council meeting since her return from Kiri had certainly been interesting. Where before, even with the waves she’d created by proposing more civilians be added to the council, she’d still been treated as a child, albeit a particularly precocious one, now when she swept into the council room, the kanzashi of Uzushio’s Empress fixed in her high-piled hair, Uzushio’s spiral inked across her forehead, the hall went silent as they all stared at her.

Let them stare. Let them remember– and let them feel shame.

“The Academy is always looking for new teachers,” Kabuto suggested, a wicked slant to his mouth. “I believe any shinobi with the rank of Chūnin is accepted as a teaching assistant, where they will have access to all the bright minds of the next generation.”

Sansa didn’t hide how impressed she was as she tilted her head slightly to look up at Kabuto, next to her.

“That’s so sneaky,” Chiyoko breathed, actually pushing herself up to a sitting position. Her tulip-pink eyes were gleaming. “I love it.”

“I’ll coach you for the interview process, which is really a thinly veiled interrogation. It’s not difficult to beat,” Kabuto promised.

Kabuto was right– as he usually was, Sansa had realised by this point– and Chiyoko was assigned as a teaching assistant at the Academy. Chiyoko filed a request to have Umino Iruka as her supervisor and Sansa was thrilled when it was accepted– it meant that Mizuki’s influence over Naruto’s education was sharply cut down. Kabuto was also quite satisfied with her position as Umino’s assistant teacher because it meant that Chiyoko had access to a number of clan heirs. Sansa wasn’t sure if Kabuto had completely converted Chiyoko as a spy for whoever he worked for, or if their teammate was just in it to fuck over Konoha after being fucked over, but she was personally happy to just reap the benefits.

Surprisingly, the Hokage had kept his word when he said that Sansa would only be expected to accept in-village C- and D-ranked missions after achieving her Chūnin rank and to study for Tokubetsu jōnin status on the basis of her sealing expertise – otherwise, she was considered a non-combative shinobi and permitted to take up an apprenticeship. The most violence she was faced with on a mission was that of the Daimyō’s wife’s cat when Madam Shijimi was visiting the village.

It wasn’t until two months after her return to the village that Sansa’s dresses were ready, and even then she had to wait until the next Council meeting to approach Ayaka to take up the woman’s offer to accompany her as she met with Inaba.

Inaba Shiori’s shop ‘Silken Threads’ was located in the merchant’s district, right where Sansa remembered it. She took note of the Haruno symbol above the doorway before she entered the store, Ayaka following a half-step behind her. Sansa didn’t fool herself into thinking that it was unintentional. Ayaka had plans brewing behind her lovely smile and glittering eyes– Sansa wasn’t the young, naïve fool she had once been, when Margaery had swept into her life with her soft touches and gentle smiles. She knew better then to expect altruism– but she also knew that not everyone who was scheming around her was an enemy, or acting against Sansa’s own interests.

Whatever Haruno Ayaka was planning, Sansa felt confident that Ayaka wasn’t looking to tear her down. If anything, Sansa suspected that the opposite was true.

It would be interesting to see where Ayaka’s machinations lead.

‘Silken Threads’ was just as Sansa remembered. The store was crowded, filled with colourful fabrics draped over wooden stands and pinned to wickerwork dress-forms. There were two women inside; one was Inaba Shiori, with her steel-grey hair and sharp, pale blue eyes, her face lined with age, the other her daughter Mariko, with the same eyes as her mother and hair a gentle shade of lilac.

“Haruno-sama,” Shiori and Mariko both bowed to Ayaka, before Shiori turned her assessing eye towards Sansa. “And Uzumaki-sama,” she said. “I hear you’re a clan head now.”

“Only acting clan head until my elder brother is legally an adult,” Sansa said with a polite, demure smile and dip of her chin, feigning embarrassment. Shiori nodded.

“I heard what happened to you,” she said. “I always wondered why you never showed up. I knew it wasn’t anything good though.”

“It wasn’t,” Sansa said honestly. “I refused to be a shinobi, so they took the choice out of my hands. Once I was freed from Root, I asked again to be a seamstress. I was told that if I became a chūnin and then studied to be a tokubetsu jōnin based on my knowledge of sealing, I would be able to pursue an apprenticeship as a seamstress. That is why I am here today,” Sansa pressed on the seal on her forearm; it lit up gold and she withdrew from it the two dresses, carefully packaged in brown paper.

Ayaka helped her unfold them and Shiori examined them with an assessing eye, paying particular attention to the Westerosi-style dress.

“Beautiful work,” she murmured, “interesting, too– I haven’t seen anything like this before.”

“You designed this yourself?” Ayaka asked, just as interested now that the dresses were displayed before her.

“I did,” Sansa confirmed and Shiori nodded.

“I stand by what I said, three years ago,” the seamstress said, “you do fine work, girl, and it would be a sin to turn you away.”

Sansa smiled. “And I am honoured by the opportunity,” she echoed her old words, an old wrong finally righted.

The Hokage had won their original battle; Sansa was a shinobi now, that was undeniable, as much as she hated the fact. But one victory did not win a war, and with every triumph Sansa was gaining back lost ground. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT:

With her new apprenticeship and the lack of a death sentence hanging over Sansa’s head, life fell into a simple rhythm.

Being an apprentice under Inaba Shiori was quite different to what Sansa had originally imagined, which was unsurprising considering that a Lord’s daughter and Queen had little reason to know the workings of apprenticeships back in Westeros, let alone in Konoha.

For all her considerable skill with a needle, Sansa was largely unfamiliar with the intricacies of tailoring kimono, and yet despite her expectations, her time under Inaba-sensei’s tutelage was not all focused on learning needlepoint. Instead, she found herself being taught how to navigate the extensive network involved in the business of fashion. Inaba-sensei’s business required her to orchestrate negotiations with spinners, weavers, dyers, specialist thread suppliers, stencil makers and designers, while also bartering with the cutthroat merchants who arranged the buying and selling of individually commissioned garments. For all Sansa’s experience at needlework, she had rarely dealt with the suppliers her bolts of cloth and thread had been purchased from.

That did not mean Sansa had no experience at all in trade; as Queen, she had dealt with disputes between merchants, had bartered for goods such as grain and cloth from the Southern kingdoms and glass from Myr, and she had hired the services of skilled craftsmen, such as carpenters, stonemasons, and more as she worked to rebuild the North following the wars and the Long Night. Learning to apply such skills to the craftsmen, suppliers and merchants in Konoha was both similar and altogether foreign as she approached them this time not from a position of power, but from a position of equality– though that was if she were being generous to herself, seeing as her apprenticeship truly meant her position was lower than that of an equal.

Inaba-sensei told her that she was already gaining a reputation– both for her skilled work and her skill for diplomacy and negotiation, much to Sansa’s delight. There were those who refused to trade with her at the markets, those who still looked as if they wished to spit in her face for being a Jinchūriki and stinking of fear as she let her lips curl back to reveal sharp teeth, but Inaba-sensei did most of her business with those associated with the Haruno merchant clan, and Haruno Ayaka’s approval had earned Sansa’s patronage a wary tolerance.

Sansa and Naruto’s eighth nameday passed without drama that year, if one didn’t count how Kakashi spoiled them both with presents; he had gifted Naruto a set of spinning tops, a kite, an ‘all-you-can-eat’ voucher for Ichimaru’s Ramen store, and a masterfully crafted straight-bladed tanto that Sansa was suspicious had more meaning then Kakashi’s casual attitude suggested, but she kept quiet, understanding that Kakashi was awkward about outward displays of affection. Naruto was delighted and that was all that had mattered to Sansa.

Kakashi had gifted Sansa with several bolts of beautiful silk cloth of breathtaking quality, delicate panels of lace, a soft, pale leather hide, and a small fortune of embroidery thread in so many beautiful colours. It was far too much, but Sansa understood Kakashi was attempting to make up for what he saw as an abandonment of the seven previous birthdays and just hugged him tight.

Kabuto, Chiyoko, Tenzō, and Sasuke had also bought her and Naruto gifts, and even Jiraiya returned briefly to Konoha to deliver Sansa an embroidery frame carved of a bone-white wood and several silver bobbins, and a frog-shaped wallet for Naruto and a book titled ‘The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi’.

Someone had also sent a box of sugar-cured lemon slices for Sansa, and a tin of konpeito* for Naruto– Sansa wasn’t sure who it was, but Kakashi had begrudgingly admitted that they weren’t poisoned, which told her he knew exactly who had sent them and wasn’t pleased in the least. Sansa let it go– if Kakashi didn’t believe the sender was dangerous enough to prevent them eating the sweets, then she trusted him enough to accept that. She had enough in her life to cause her stress without needlessly adding more (and the sugar-cured lemon slices were delicious).

Before she had been taken by Danzo, Sansa remembered spending her namedays with Naruto and Kanna, locked away from the populace of Konoha for fear of their safety. This was the first year they had spent actually celebrating with friends and family– and Sansa had the feeling that Kakashi and Tenzō’s presence was the reason why it had been permitted, though she could also feel the presence of several ANBU outside their apartment, guarding them. Sansa wasn’t concerned, not the way she had been when she was smaller, weaker, defenceless– she had faith now in both her own abilities to protect her brother, and that Kakashi would tear apart anyone who even tried to lay a hand on either of them.

Perhaps that was what the ANBU were really there for– to protect Konoha’s populace from her, now that Sansa was more than capable of fighting back and had no reason not to. The Hokage was well aware that she would not hesitate to spill blood for Naruto’s sake, nor she imagined had he forgotten Naruto killing his first sensei at the Academy for her sake, after the bastard had beaten Sansa and then stabbed her.

Either way, Sansa turned her attention from the ANBU, from the past, and focused instead on celebrating with her teammates and her pack.

The following day, in the early hours of the dawn, she and Naruto slipped from the apartment so Naruto could introduce Sansa to his new custom for this day– visiting the shrine they had so lovingly restored.

Sansa had set up seals to protect the shrine the previous afternoon, knowing the anniversary of Kurama’s unwilling rampage through the village brought out the worst in Konoha’s citizens and that the shrine was particularly vulnerable to their rage. She’d asked Tama to spread the warning throughout the Yūkaku about what she was doing, so that those trying to enter the sacred space without malice wouldn’t fall to the same traps protecting the shrine from being desecrated in drunken rage. Her seals wouldn’t stop a skilled shinobi, but it was enough to prevent civilians and lower-level drunk genin and chunin.

She removed the seals before she and Naruto entered, her stomach twisting as her eyes were automatically drawn to the place where Kanna’s body had been left, discarded like she was nothing more than trash. Although the blood had long-since been scrubbed away, Sansa could swear the scent of salt-rust-iron still lingered in the air. Next to her, Naruto sniffled wetly, and Sansa let out a slow, tired breath.

Anniversaries of loss were always difficult.

(There were entire graveyards within Sansa’s heart)

Sansa didn’t kneel in the shrine, she remembered Inari-sama’s words – “You are a Queen, are you not? You do not belong on your knees” – but she did bow her head as she prayed for Kanna, prayed that she had found a peace and joy in the heavens that had been so scarce in her brief life. With great care and gentle hands, Naruto laid out his offerings to Kanna and Inari-sama of handmade inari.

“Aneue?” her brother asked softly, returning to her side and leaning so his cheek was pressed against the curve of her neck.

“Yes, little prince?” Sansa murmured. Naruto sniffled again.

“Why’d Konoha kill Ka-ane?” he asked plaintively, his voice so hushed that even she could barely hear it standing right next to him.

Sansa turned her head so she could press her face into his sunshine-bright hair. “Because she was worth more to them dead then she was alive,” she whispered. Kanna’s life was no more than a piece on a gameboard to those who ruled Konoha, just a meaningless, easily disposed of piece, only good for manipulating the pieces with higher value.

Naruto’s chakra was agitated, twisting inside him like a lashing seastorm as he clung to Sansa. “Are they gonna kill Saskue an’ anija too?” he asked, a faint, desperate whine in his voice. “’Cause they’re our family, jus’ like Ka-ane was?”

Sansa’s heart ached at the fear thick in her little brother’s voice. It had never crossed her mind that Naruto was afraid that the little family they’d created with Sasuke and Kakashi would be torn apart and ripped away from them, like Kanna had been. Like Sansa herself had been, for so many years.

She should have realised, she scolded herself– unlike Sansa, Naruto had no memories of a family untainted by the grief and fear of loss. After Sansa’s true childhood, when her parents and her kin had been murdered, she had found it difficult to trust that the new family she’d created with her children and those loyal to her, those who loved her, would not be taken from her too– especially with Daenerys ruling in the South, a dangerous spark she always feared would set fire to the kindling that was her home with every breath the silver-haired conqueror took.

Of course Naruto must be afraid. They were living in enemy territory, their lives at the mercy of an unmerciful dictator, and he was just a child. How could he not be afraid?

Sansa wanted to reassure him, desperately so, but she could not. Her lord-father and lady-mother had not prepared her and her siblings for the harsh truth of the world, instead allowing them a childhood of carefree summer, and the price they had paid for their innocence had cost Sansa almost all her kin.

She would not lie to Naruto, for she could not bear to lose him.

“I can make no promises,” she said, her heart aching at how his little shoulders tensed at her words. “But that does not mean I will not do everything in my power to keep all of you safe. I will destroy this village before I allow any harm to come to my family.”

~

Genma found himself stalking through the backstreets of Konoha, winding his way towards the district that had once been his home. The sun was still high up in the sky, the red lanterns unlit, but Genma could feel the shift in the air around him as he entered the Yūkaku.

Nobody looked over to him, or approached him, but he did not doubt that his presence had been noticed, and that those charged with gathering information had scattered to alert their patrons of the news. He really should have changed out of his jōnin vest to do this, but the memory of Raidou’s slumped form as he sat hunched over, shoulders trembling with emotion, drove Genma forward.

He deliberately didn’t try to hide his intentions, making his way directly towards the apartment building where the Uzumaki twins lived (and Uchiha Sasuke too, if the hushed gossip going around the jōnin station was true).

He was only a street away when he was intercepted when passing by one of the many alleys that branched off from the main streets, purposefully designed as the Yūkaku was for hidden shadows to conduct private business. Someone grabbed him from behind, dragging him into the alley and slamming him face-first into the wall of the closest building, barely giving him enough time to spit out his senbon before he impaled himself.

Genma could feel a hand like iron gripping around his neck, holding him pinned against the stone with his feet off the floor, pressing so hard his lips were shredded by his teeth, blood dripping like saliva down his chin. A second hand was gripping the arm that he had been reaching for a kunai with in a constricting hold that felt as if it was grinding the bones in his wrist together. The hand on his throat wasn’t quite crushing his windpipe or blocking off the arteries, but he could hardly breathe and when he tried to grab his assailant’s wrist with his left hand, to try to pull it away, the grip around his neck tightened.

“Good to see you too, Kakashi,” Genma wheezed. Behind him, Kakashi snarled; raw and vicious and downright feral. Genma swallowed slowly, carefully tilting his head in a way that bared his throat– he’d worked with enough Inuzuka to pick up on the more animalistic behaviours and traits that nin who worked closely with summons or animal-nin partners tended to exhibit.

It seemed to work– for a moment. Kakashi slowly lowered him back down so his feet were on the ground and released his throat, but Genma didn’t even have time to take a breath before Kakashi was using his grip to twist his arm, forcing him to his knees in the alleyway.

“You know,” Genma rasped, moving his free hand very slowly up to rub at his neck, at the bruises that must already be forming there, “if anyone happens to glance this way, they’re going to get a very wrong idea about what’s happening.” He paused, then cocked an eyebrow, his torn, bloodied lips curving into a leer. “Or maybe the right one?”

Kakashi’s expression was carved stone above him, unmoved and unaffected by Genma’s flirting, as always. Genma had seen Anko literally shove her bare breasts in Kakashi’s face before and the other nin hadn’t even blinked.

“What,” Kakashi said instead, low and dangerous, a growl rumbling through every word, “are you doing here?” The implied ‘near Naruto and Fuyuko’ went unsaid but not unheard by either of them.

“I wasn’t looking for the twins,” Genma rasped. “I was looking for you.” And all the jōnin knew where Kakashi lurked around these days.

“You found me,” Kakashi’s voice was icy, his single visible dark grey eye boring down on Genma. “Talk.” Genma really wished he wasn’t trapped on his knees at the risk of having his arm ripped out of its socket, because the vulnerable position made it really damn difficult to properly glare at Kakashi.

“You’re being a fucking dick,” he snapped. Kakashi’s face didn’t even twitch and Genma really wished he hadn’t spat out his senbon– a little light impaling of his throat would have been worth it to spit it in Kakashi’s face right now. “Seriously, Kakashi– at least hear Raidou out, instead of disappearing every time he tries to talk to you!”

“Raidou,” Kakashi said softly, “is very lucky he’s still breathing.”

Genma reacted to the threat to his closest friend (and frequent lover) on instinct. It didn’t do him any good. He didn’t even manage to break Kakashi’s hold before his face was slammed into the ground, both arms twisted behind his back now and the sharpened steel edge of a kunai pressed to the side of his neck where his carotid artery pulsed with each beat of his heart.

“Fuck,” he slurred into the muck on the ground.

“You’re an idiot,” Kakashi informed him coolly, which Genma couldn’t exactly argue with right now. Clearly anger had been the wrong approach to this issue. Which, in hindsight, was obvious, but Raidou’s grief and guilt was wreaking havoc on Genma’s self-control. He loved the other man and seeing him in this state hurt. Still, hunting down Kakashi to yell at him, especially so close to the twins’ home, had been a terrible idea that Genma really wasn’t surprised had turned out as badly as it had.

He exhaled slowly, the best he could without getting any dirt in his mouth, and forced himself to let the tension ease from his muscles. “Kakashi,” he said, letting his voice turn plaintive, “I know you’re angry. Gods know I’m angry. What happened to Fuyuko-chan… we should have been better, all of us should have been better. She should never have ended up in his hands, and never for so long.”

He’d seen what Fuyuko looked like, when Kakashi and Tenzō had brought her back to Konoha alongside Jiraiya, after her escape from Root. Too-pale, too-small, and her face too-blank.

Genma wasn’t unfamiliar with child soldiers, he’d been one himself, but what Danzo did to his child soldiers was different. It was monstrous. The Academy wasn’t nice, not for a clanless child of a Yūkaku whore who wasn’t expected to live past his first encounter with an enemy-nin, but it wasn’t the ruthless, dehumanising, soul-crushing training that had been uncovered by Danzo’s death. The ‘graduation exam’ where Root shinobi were forced to battle to the death against their partner, their comrade, was especially brutal and a complete antithesis to the Will of Fire that Konoha was meant to embody.

Following Danzo’s death and the slow leaking of the information he’d kept confidential, one of the worst-kept secrets amongst the jōnin was that Kakashi had been forcibly enlisted into Root, several years back. Genma wondered if Kakashi had been forced to graduate from Root’s special exam, despite his late entrance to the special force. It wasn’t a question he ever planned to ask, no matter the morbid gossip and bets floating around. Normally Genma didn’t hesitate to join the gossip-mongering, it was the best way to get his hands on juicy blackmail, after all. This time, though… this time it hit too close to home.

“What happened to Fuyuko wasn’t right,” Genma repeated. “Danzo never should have been given the chance to touch her.”

“And yet,” Kakashi leaned in slightly, the movement adding pressure on the kunai still pressed against Genma’s neck, “Raidou knew.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? That was why Raidou was drowning in guilt, having spent years torn between his loyalty to a dead Hokage and a living one, and to the little girl he’d spent four years watching grow up.

“Raidou was given orders by the Hokage,” Genma said quietly. “He didn’t even tell me.”

“He should have spoken up,” Kakashi said, vicious. “He should have done something. He left her there to be tortured.”

“You don’t get it,” Genma said, and if there was a hint of bitterness in his voice… well, he couldn’t help it. “We’re not like you, Kakashi– we’re not fucking kage-level shinobi who can afford to disobey the Hokage because we’re too strong to be executed for treason and have no family that can be leveraged against us.” That was a low-blow, but he didn’t regret saying it. Kakashi didn’t get it, because the rules were different for shinobi like him– shinobi capable of blowing an SS-rank undercover mission in Iwa’s capital to the hells without needing to care about the aftermath because he could just slaughter his way out of it, and it wasn’t like the Hokage could afford to discipline him for disobeying orders.

For shinobi like Raidou, like Genma? No such leniency existed. Jōnin were a Hidden Village’s most important resource, yes, but they were still replaceable. Not like Kakashi.

He was finally released, the kunai moving away from his neck, and Genma winced slightly at the rush of blood returning to his fingers. He stood slowly, wiping the blood and dirt from his face with the back of his hand. Kakashi’s face was blank, expressionless as Genma faced him once more.

“I’m not asking you to be friends with Raidou,” he said quietly. “I’m not even asking you to forgive him. But I am asking you to let Fuyuko and Naruto make their own decision about him– and he’s said that he won’t visit them until he gets permission to from you. He thinks you have the right to say he’s not allowed to be in their lives.”

“And you don’t,” Kakashi said coldly.

“No, I don’t,” Genma agreed easily. “I think you’re a hypocrite. Raidou didn’t speak up about Fuyuko being given to Danzo, but you never spoke up about the Hokage banning us from seeing the twins– if you’d gone to visit Naruto at all in the three years Fuyuko spent with Danzo, you’d have known she was missing.”

“You think I don’t realise that?” Kakashi snarled, the blank mask he was wearing to hide his emotions shattering to a livid fury. “You think I don’t regret that?”

“Of course you regret it!” Genma snapped. “And guess what, Kakashi? So does Raidou!”

Kakashi honestly looked like he wanted to drive the kunai he was still holding straight through Genma’s throat. So naturally, Genma decided to keep pushing.

“Is it easier to hate Raidou for his inaction, his obedience, so you don’t have to hate yourself for yours?” he demanded. Kakashi took a step forwards, snarling, and Genma shifted, bracing himself for the oncoming fight, when a sharp bark interrupted them.

“OI!” a small, recognisable pug snapped as he scampered between them.

Kakashi’s entire demeanour shifted in a split second, furious to panicked in less than a heartbeat. “Fuyuko?” he demanded.

“She’s fine,” Pakkun said grumpily. “I’ve been sent to deal with you brawling in the streets like an unruly pup!”

In other words, he’d been sent to deescalate a situation that Genma was ashamed to admit had rapidly spiralled out of control.

“I left the cub in the den,” Pakkun added and Kakashi relaxed slightly only for Pakkun to lunge forwards and nip his ankle.

“Pakkun!” Kakashi growled, shaking his leg until the pug let go. Pakkun growled right back at him.

“Act like a pup, get treated like a pup!”

Kakashi glowered down at his summons before taking a deep, visible breath. Genma felt some of the tension leave his body as he watched Kakashi calm himself down, and once again, in hindsight, he really shouldn’t have expected Kakashi to react well to… well, anything he’d just said. But he didn’t regret it either.

Kakashi’s face was blank again as he turned to Genma. “Tell Raidou I won’t stop him visiting,” he said flatly. Then he turned and disappeared with in a body-flicker too fast for Genma’s eyes to track.

“I really fucked that up,” Genma said wryly, grimacing as he rubbed his neck where Kakashi had kept the kunai pressed. His fingers came away bloody.

“No shit, kid,” snorted the pug. “But let’s be honest, you just did Kakashi a favour. I ain’t saying he’ll be in a hurry to forgive you, but he needed to hear that and it had to be said before the idiot burns every bridge he’s ever had in this village.”

“You’ll make sure he’s okay?” Genma asked quietly. He knew just as well as the next shinobi just how fragile mental stability was– there was a reason why shinobi were forced to attend so many compulsory mental check-ups and debriefings with psych.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Pakkun said, barring his sharp teeth in a mean, doggy grin, “I’ve got more than enough practice talking Kakashi off ledges.”

“Yeah, that’s the exact opposite of comforting,” Genma muttered and Pakkun snorted.

“Wasn’t meant to be,” the pug said. “I said you did Kakashi a favour. I didn’t say I liked you for it.”

With that, Pakkun trotted out of the alley, presumably to go talk Kakashi off the hopefully metaphorical ledge. As soon as he was gone, a familiar kid practically melted out of the shadows. 

Sharp, dark eyes gleaming with the classic Nara ruthless, calculating intelligence met his. Genma didn’t know her name, but he definitely knew of this girl– Naruto’s “boss”, the girl who’d set Kakashi on Danzo, the one who’d set into motion the trend of street kids painting stripes on their cheeks, yet another bastard child of a Yūkaku whore who had decided to make something of herself but choosing a very different path to Genma’s.

“I’m guessing you’re the one responsible for Pakkun intervening,” he said. The girl smiled sharply.

“Two jōnin get into a fight, that means attention. None of us here are a real fan of that, you understand.”

He would be surprised at the gall of a slip of a child with no shinobi training threatening him, but as Raidou had said; a kage could be killed by an academy student, all it took was one mistake. He wasn’t about to make that mistake here. Besides, he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do– now he just needed to visit the hospital and beg one of the medic-nins for healing injuries that would be classed as ‘superficial’ and ‘low priority’ before Raidou came across the evidence of his altercation with Kakashi. His best friend would be furious at him for interfering when he still saw himself as at fault.

“Keep an eye out for them,” Genma told the Nara girl. “They need every friend and ally they can get.” He didn’t need to specify who he was talking about. Fuyuko may have won the Chūnin Exams and Naruto might just be an Academy student, but for the Jinchūriki children of the Yondaime and the Whirlpool Princess, danger would never be far behind them.

-

-

*konpeito = small, hard sugar candies that were first introduced to Japan in the 16^thcentury

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE:

When Genma slunk up to him with a guilty confession on his torn, bloodied lips, Gai felt a rare surge of frustration that had him biting back some very unYouthful accusations.

What nobody but Gai seemed to understand or realise was that Kakashi was fragile. Oh, it was common enough knowledge that after the loss of his genin teammates and jōnin-sensei Kakashi had thrown himself into the anonymity of ANBU, taking suicide mission after suicide mission and somehow clawing his way through alive, but people saw that he survived those missions, saw him around the village, saw him act as a semi-functional human being, and assumed it meant far more than it did.

Gai knew differently. He had known Kakashi since his earliest years; back when Sakumo and Dai had been close friends, two widowed fathers raising a pair of precocious sons alone; back before either of them had known the tragedy of loss, of overwhelming grief; back before they had known the horrors of the battlefield, of crawling through mountains of rotting corpses, stealing enemy lives in order to keep the breath in their lungs just another heartbeat longer, his fellow child of war.

The sudden, tragic loss of Obito and then Rin had deeply damaged Kakashi, leaving him bleeding where no medic-nin could heal. And when Minato and Kushina had died...

It was Gai who had been the one to tackle Kakashi and wrestle the kunai from his white-knuckled grip when he tried to cut his own throat open with it. It was Gai who had witnessed the aftermath of not just the losing Minato and Kushina, but the twins too... Gai had been forced to watch how his Eternal Rival lost himself, becoming nothing more than a weapon in the hands of whoever gave the orders, his humanity shattered, stripped away along with his pack bonds, no life present behind his single dull, blank eye.

For all the enthusiasm Gai tried to demonstrate, for all that he tried to keep an optimistic view of the world (lest it shatter him too), Gai had almost lost hope for Kakashi, had found himself mourning the shade of his friend that remained with one foot always in the grave, his gaze set to the far distance where the dead waited– only, that was when a miracle had occurred.

Gai wished the miracle hadn't arisen on the back of such tragedy as the treachery of Elder Danzo now laid bare for the village to witness; indeed, he was angered and aggrieved at such a miscarriage of power, of justice, at the smothering of Konoha's Will of Fire in the name of building its strength. Yet he could not regret how Kakashi had flourished in the wake of it, the Springtime of his Youth restored as he found tethers to the land of the living in the form of a set of twins he'd been cruelly separated from for far too long.

Gai had never believed that concealing the twins' parentage and forbidding the jōnin who had known of Kushina and her condition contact with them was the right action to take. Gai would never presume to have the knowledge of politics that the Sandaime had, but surely better solutions could have been found, if not in the immediate aftermath of the Kyuubi disaster then soon after when reconstruction was underway and the Sandaime had been sworn back in, Konoha no longer in a state of emergency.

Alas, it was not to be, and it wasn't until now that Kakashi was able to make bonds with the children who should have been raised as his kin, his pack.

Kakashi was finally healing, fresh, green shoots creeping through the cracks in his soul, the leaves starting to unfurl towards the sun and flourish. Gai had been sent on a long-term mission shortly after Kakashi's rampage through Iwa, and the difference between the Kakashi Of Before and the Kakashi Of His Return was astounding. This tentative but honest contentment, it was all Gai had ever wanted for his Dearest Rival, and he settled his Most Sincerely Disappointed look on Genma, who shrank underneath the weight of it.

"Sorry," Genma muttered again, sheepish and regretful and defiant, all at once, and Gai sighed, waving a hand absently to dismiss the other shinobi before setting off to hunt down Konoha's best hunter.

Of course, for those who knew Kakashi, he was never too hard to find.

Gai found his Eternal Rival standing before the Memorial Stone and the tension that had been building in his chest since a guilty Genma had tracked him down eased slightly. Still, he couldn't help but bite back another unYouthful curse as Kakashi lifted his head at Gai's slow, careful approach, revealing an eye as wild as anything bred to hunt and slaughter.

"Do you think they could ever forgive me?" Kakashi asked; his flat and was empty of all life.

There was no question who he was referring to.

As he stepped closer to Kakashi, Gai thought of Kushina; wild and beautiful, remembered how she dug her teeth into every scrap of family she had left and refused to let go. He thought of Minato, too; golden and glorious, perfectly polite until someone threatened what was his and he cut them down without flinching.

Gai would never forget the strategy meeting, back during the war, where Minato had spent a meeting ignoring and even speaking over Danzo. When a frustrated Danzo had reprimanded him sharply, Minato smiled at him, knife-sharp and mocking. "Apologies, Honoured Councilman," he'd said, managing to turn Danzo's title into an insult without even changing the inflection of his voice, mouth still curved in that dangerous, challenging smile. "I didn't realise it was me that you were addressing. You are an advisor to the Hokage, after all, and I am not the Hokage." Yet, had gone unspoken but not unheard by all in the room– including Danzo, who was not at all unsubtle in how he hungered for the Hokage seat.

It was the first time Minato had openly challenged Danzo's authority– both over Minato himself and over Konoha in general– quite so openly. Nobody missed the fact this had occurred in the aftermath of Danzo pulling strings to get Kakashi sent on a solo-mission during wartime (which Gai now suspected was planned in order to have his Eternal Rival "killed" so Danzo could smuggle him away from Minato and turn Kakashi into another one of his brainwashed soldiers).

"Kakashi," Gai said solemnly as he closed the gap between them and reached to gently grip his best friend's nape, pressing firmly enough to ground him. Kakashi folded forwards into Gai, face pressed against his chest like Kakashi was fourteen again and suicidal with grief over the loss of his pack. "Minato and Kushina loved you," he told Kakasha fiercely. "You were their child. There is nothing you could do that they would not forgive you for."

If anything, the pair were more likely to wreak a terrible vengeance over all who had harmed Kakashi in their absence, manipulating his loyalty to keep him and the twins apart.

(Gai very purposefully did not think the name 'Sarutobi Hiruzen' because that would be disloyal. But if he did not think it very loudly when he next placed incense next to the Memorial Stone, well, it wasn't as if anyone barring those in the Pure Lands would know)

Gai kept up the firm grip on the back of Kakashi's neck, tactfully not mentioning how he could feel Kakashi tremble against him. He knew it would take time for Kakashi to ground himself, and that Kakashi's summons would keep any other shinobi who thought to visit the Memorial Stone away, to keep this breakdown private.

Sadly, this was a well-practiced routine for Gai and the summons– it was not the first time Pakkun had needed Gai's help to talk Kakashi down from a spiral of destructive thinking. The pair of them had it down to a fine art these days.

"Do Fuyuko or Naruto blame you?" Gai asked gently. He felt Kakashi flinch against him. 

"No," his Beloved Rival said hoarsely against Gai's chest.

"The twins are the sum of the best of Minato and Kushina," Gai told his best friend, keeping his voice gentle, instead of its usual booming exuberance. "If they do not blame you, how could Minato and Kushina?"

"Do you think I'm using Raidou as a scapegoat for my own guilt over following Sarutobi's orders?" Kakashi asked dully, still leaning against Gai so that Gai was supporting most of his best friend's weight.

Gai silently promised himself that he would wake Genma up at four in the morning every day this week and the next and force him to join Gai on his morning exercise routine, using the threat of revealing his confrontation with Kakashi to Raidou in order to... convince him.

(People tended to forget that Gai was a shinobi, a jōnin, and one of the only ninja capable of keeping up with Kakashi– this was usually to their detriment. He would not fight Genma, would not harm him, but he would still punish the other man for his careless, cutting words)

"I do not think you are using Raidou as a scapegoat," he told Kakashi firmly.

Kakashi didn't need a scapegoat for his guilt– he already tortured himself with it every waking moment of every day.

The Raidou situation... it was a complicated situation all around, Gai could admit. He had seen the toll that Raidou's silence had had on the man. He had also seen the toll that Kakashi's distance from the twins had had on him. Following the orders had left both men suffering, and Gai really only blamed one person... one person still living, he silently amended, remembering Danzo's decapitated head, one eye gouged bloodily from the socket.

Kakashi let out a shuddering breath in Gai's arms. "I am very angry." He said, speaking so quietly Gai almost didn't hear it. Gai felt his grip on Kakashi tighten.

"A most Desolate of Winters has settled over Konoha, smothering its Springtime of Youth." He said solemnly, knowing Kakashi would understand the meaning behind his words.

"What do I do now?" Kakashi asked plaintively.

"My Beloved Rival," Gai said, "I believe we should race around Konoha one hundred times– and the loser must buy dinner."

Kakashi snorted, finally lifting his head from Gai's chest. Gai wasn't surprised to see his sole visible eye was dry of tears, despite his silent sobs. "Maa, that eager to treat me to an expensive meal?" Kakashi teased and Gai felt something settle inside him. He knew better then to think Kakashi was really feeling as carefree as he looked, but it was a start.

"Yosh!" He exclaimed, with a playful grin. "If you manage to beat the Magnificent Green Beast of Konoha, then I shall buy you five of the finest dinners in Konoha!"

Kakashi's eye curved into a smile. And then, with a flicker of falling leaves, he disappeared.

"So hip," Gai sighed fondly, before dashing after him. 

Later that evening, Gai would join Kakashi, carrying a pile of cartons of expensive take-out balanced precariously in his arms, and finally be introduced to the twins.

He didn't blame Kakashi for not having introduced them already, even with Gai having returned home Victorious from his mission over a week ago (he had never liked long-term missions and was very aware that the recent surplus was no doubt a direct response to his failure to even attempt to stop Kakashi from fleeing the village with Fuyuko-chan after killing Danzo). Kakashi was as fiercely protective over his cubs as a wounded, cornered wolf, all jagged, bared teeth and muscles coiled tight, ready to lunge. If he could, Gai didn't doubt that Kakashi would hide the twins away where nobody could ever so much as breathe in their direction.

As the door to the twins' apartment opened, Gai got his first look at the twins in months. He hadn't seen Fuyuko-chan since her rescue from Danzō's clutches. The young girl before him now appeared worlds apart from the sallow-pale, gaunt-faced child that had been rescued from beneath the ground. Now, out under the sun where she could flourish, Fuyuko stood confident and unbowed, her eyes gleaming and brilliant, her hair a familiar, lustrous red he had only ever seen on one person before.

Beside her, Naruto-kun stood sun-kissed and golden, a true summer child from the brightness of his sky-blue eyes to the deep tan of his skin to the warmth of his beaming smile up at Gai.

"You have huge muscles!" the little blond exclaimed gleefully.

"Oh no," Gai vaguely heard Kakashi groan, sounding quite alarmed as he did so, but Gai was too busy beaming back down at Naruto-kun to pay his Eternal Rival any attention.

"Yosh!" He boomed cheerfully, juggling the precariously tilting pile of take-out into one arm so he could flex a bicep. Naruto's mouth dropped open and Gai couldn't help but preen.

"Tha's bigger than my head!" Naruto breathed.

To be fair, Naruto was an eight-year-old child and so he didn't have a very large head, but Gai couldn't help feeling smug as he shot a look over at his scowling Rival, who had always been built lean with wiry muscle, as opposed to Gai's impressive– if he may say so himself– bulk.

"Can ya teach me how ta get muscles that huge?" Naruto begged, looking up at him with pleading blue eyes– Minato's eyes, they were Minato's eyes, and how could Gai ever deny his Beloved Hokage anything?

"Yosh!" he exclaimed again. "How Youthful of you, Young Naruto-kun, to seek to fan your Flames of Youth so! Of course I shall teach you how to be as magnificent as Konoha's own Green Beast!" 

"...is thatta yes?" Naruto asked, seeming slightly confused.

"Indeed it is!" Gai boomed, knowing he had just willingly stepped right into the entire mess that was the Uzumaki twins and the Hokage and the Council, yet not regretting it even slightly.

"And will ya train Sasuke with me? It ain't right if I train without him," Naruto pouted up at him with those big, watery eyes, and Gai folded like a wet scroll.

"Why of course!" he declared. "It is my duty– nay, it is my honour to Fan the Flames of Konoha's Youth!"

Naruto cheered, grabbing his twin sister to spin her around before bounding into the apartment, out of the doorway he had been standing in, yelling out to the young Uchiha clan heir as he did so.

Gai felt a sudden chill shudder down his spine, and a prick at his side had him glancing down to see a kunai poking lightly over his kidney. Kakashi was smiling blandly up at him, the slight curve of his eye setting off every alarm bell in Gai's head.

"If I ever see either Naruto or Sasuke wearing spandex," Kakashi said, his words no less a threat for how deceptively calm they seemed, "I will cut you open then set your intestines on fire while they're still inside you."

Gai swallowed audibly, the visions of himself jogging through Konoha in his green jumpsuit while Young Naruto and Young Sasuke jogged behind him in matching jumpsuits of bright orange and bright red abruptly snuffed.

"I'm glad we understand each other," Kakashi said, kunai vanishing before he prowled into the apartment, and Gai was left with only an amused-looking Fuyuko-chan.

"Welcome to our home, Gai-san," she said, not trying to hide the curl of amusement in her voice.

"Truly, it is a pleasure to be here," Gai told her as he followed her inside, crouching as he crossed the doorway to be sure that none of the containers in the take-out pile were knocked over by the doorframe.

And indeed, as he gazed around the small apartment, at Naruto and Sasuke sitting together with what looked like their Academy homework spread out in front of them, Tenzō lurking over by the window using a kunai to carve something out of a block of wood, and Kakashi on the couch with Fuyuko sprawled out next to him, her head on his lap, Gai felt the warmth of true pleasure settle over him.

This? This was the Konoha he fought for. This loving home with its loving family, the true embodiment of the Everlasting Warmth of Summer.

::

Following their eighth birthday, after Naruto had finally let slip the truth to his sister of how frightened he was Konoha would murder their Anija or Sasuke or even Tama-neechan, his Ko-ane became even more determined than before that he learn how to talk to his Belly-Fox.

Naruto found it difficult, trying to make his mind all quiet how his Aneue described to him. His head was always so busy unless he was using the giggly stuff, which made him feel all slow and sleepy for a bit. Ko-ane didn't like him using the giggly stuff, though (and she could be very scary when she was mad).

In the weeks that followed their eighth birthday, Ko-ane dragged him to the shrine every day where they would kneel facing each other, small hands linked, fingers curled together, their eyes closed, and their foreheads touching. Lady would sit at the entrance of the shrine to guard them, fierce and sharp-toothed, and sometimes Naruto would spot Nari-chan (who Aneue kept insisting he call 'Inari-sama') out of the corner of his eye, a quick flash of glowing white fur.

Even though he found meditation hard, Naruto loved the quiet time he spent with his sister in his favourite place in the world. He loved how they reached out for each other, not just with their hands but with something else, something other– ninshū, Ko-and called it– and it was like Naruto could feel Ko-ane's emotions, could feel himself sinking into the endless depths of her chakra (oceans, some distant part of him that was all blood and instinct, the collective memories of the hundreds of Uzumaki that came before him, a knowledge settled deep in his very being, there were oceans within his sister's soul).

Slowly, gradually, over the passing weeks Fuyuko managed to coax him through reaching out with his chakra not towards her, or to Sasuke, or Anija, or even sometimes Tenzō, but instead within himself, where beneath the windstorms of his chakra lurked the burning-fire-red he used to scare the people Tama-neechan wanted scared; scorching and searing, branding his heart and sinking deep into his soul.

It scared him. It felt like blood and fire and destruction, an endless well of hatred and rage, and every part of him rebelled against falling willingly into the heart of the flames the way his Ko-ane described.

"I'm scared," he admitted to Ko-ane in their first language, the Old Tongue, after weeks of trying and failing to reach out to his Belly-Fox.

"What's frightening you?" his sister asked gently. 

"I don't like having so much... so much hate and- and anger inside me," he shuddered, not sure if he had the words to describe how his entire being seemed to shy away from the overflow of burning emotion. His Aneue nodded slowly, her long hair brushing against their linked hands with the motion.

"You're allowed to be afraid," she said, finally. "The Fox... they are frightening. They have so much rage inside them, so much hatred... yet how could they possibly feel anything else, when all they have known since the Sage is anger and hate? You know how the Village treats us... do you love Konoha and her people?"

"No!" Naruto said, pulling a face even as his mind whirled, "No, they're awful! I only like some of the people who live in the Yūkaku. And maybe Iruka-sensei a little bit, when he isn't being stupid."

"And why don't you like them?" Ko-ane asked.

"...because they're mean and horrible and throw things at me and call me names," Naruto said slowly as realisation finally dawned over him. "And that's why my Belly-Fox doesn't like humans. Because humans are mean and horrible to them and they throw jutsu at them and call them names like 'demon'."

"The so-called Bijuu weren't always called demons," Ko-ane told him, squeezing his hands gently as he stared at her in wide-eyed realisation. "It was humans who gave them that title. Humans who decided they were evil and lesser."

"Humans are so stupid," Naruto grumbled and his Ko-ane laughed.

"The Fox agrees with you," she said warmly, looking across at him with fond, deep-blue eyes. "We can take a break, if you like. We can keep trying tomorrow."

"I want to try again now," Naruto decided, determined. Ko-ane nodded, leaning forwards so their foreheads were pressed together again. Naruto took a deep breath, holding his sister's hands tight, before reaching for burning-red-hate-blood-fire–

–Naruto gasped, opening his eyes to find himself in the shrine, only it was different. The walls surrounding him were taller, so much taller, towering so high above him he couldn't see where they ended. The red paint was deeper, too, a smoky-bloody-crimson gilded with slashes of shining gold. Instead of paper origami foxes strung across the walls, carved fox votives surrounded him, their jewelled eyes reflecting dancing flames as they stared eerily down at him.

The shrine seemed to stretch out endlessly before him and behind him, and it was instinct alone that had Naruto stepping carefully forward, making his way in the direction of the haiden. Once he made that decision, the shrine seemed to blur around him, and in the length of just three steps he found himself standing before the towering doorway to the haiden; the forbidden heart of the shrine.

The doorway looming over him, stretching high and out of sight, should have been blocked by a braided shimenawa as only the priests were allowed to enter the sacred space. Only, instead of a single shimenada, what seemed like hundreds of braided ropes spun across the doorway, creating what appeared to be a net– or maybe a 'cage' was a better description. All the braided ropes seemed to meet at the centre, bound together in a twisted knot onto which lines of ink were painted, thick and black, swirling and twisting in a strange pattern.

Naruto recognised what it was immediately– it was seal.

He stepped crept closer to the doorway, his heart pounding in his chest, and behind the rope something moved, stepping forwards on heavy paws until Naruto was laying eyes on his Belly-Fox for the very first time that he remembered.

They were terrifying; Naruto was no longer confused about why the shrine towered so high above him, not when it housed such an enormous being within it, tall as a mountain. The Fox looked like living fire, their fur lit up with crackling power, golden eyes glowing, slit and dangerous, nine tails fanned out behind them, crowning the Fox in a brutal, burning glory.

Fanged jaws parted, jagged teeth bared, as the Fox smiled mockingly down at him.

"Well, well, well," their voice was smoky, dark, and dripping with malice; each dragged syllable sending shivers of primal dread down Naruto's spine, "I have been waiting for this."

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIXTY:

Naruto didn’t think he’d ever felt so small as he did in that moment, looking up at the Nine-Tailed Fox in their shrine-prison. Guilt churned uncomfortably in his stomach and he had to take a deep breath and lock his knees in place so he didn’t take the automatic steps backwards that every survival instinct he had was screaming for him to do. 

“Hi,” he blurted out before he could think of anything better to say, and his face flushed slightly. ‘Hi’ really felt a bit underwhelming when faced with a living natural disaster. 

The Fox looked just as unimpressed with Naruto as Naruto felt in himself, lips pulling back from those terrible, terrifying fangs in an unmistakable sneer.

“Pathetic,” the Fox growled. 

Well, that was hurtful, Naruto thought, trying not to pout. Not wrong, but still hurtful. It was good that his Aneue had prepared him for the Fox being grumpy, and Naruto was certainly familiar enough with the burning red chakra that was the Fox’s hate-rage-fury.

“I’m sorry for just turning up an’ invading your space,” he told the Fox, because that was just good manners and Aneue had made sure he knew just how important his courtesies were. 

“Courtesies are your armour,” she’d told him, “but they can also be a weapon for you to wield. You need to prove you know your courtesies first before ignoring them entirely– that way it’s understood that your lack of courtesy is a snub to them, as opposed to your own ignorance.” 

Naruto enjoyed that sort of sneaky, underhanded trickery, so he’d put in the effort to prove he’d been taught the sort of proper manners that couldn’t be faulted, that way when he loudly slurped up his ramen when the Hokage took him out for lunch, or chewed with his mouth open at the Academy, it was a deliberate snub. He knew Teuchi, Ayame, Iruka, and a few of the Clan kids and that smart girl with pretty pink hair in his class at the Academy had all noticed his deliberate lack of manners, though he wasn’t sure if the Hokage or Mizuki had picked up on it yet. 

Looking up at the Fox whose lips had peeled back even further back at his apology and their rumbling snarl feeling as if it was shaking the entire shrine, Naruto couldn’t help but think he would need all the armour he had to get through this conversation. 

“Oh, you’re sorry?” The Fox snarled. “You’re sorry for invading the jail cell you have me imprisoned in?” They slammed their nine tails against the ground hard enough to cause the shrine to violently rattle around them, and Naruto had to fight to keep his balance.

“I really am sorry,” he said honestly, even though he knew the Fox probably wouldn’t take it well. “It ain’t fair that you’re stuck in here, and it ain’t fair that I just barged in an’ you can’t stop me. So I am sorry. I just… I wanted to thank you.”

“You wanted to thank me?” The Fox rumbled, and the almost calm voice they spoke in deceptive when compared to the terrible, burning fury in their eyes. Naruto was now very sure that the shrine shaking around them wasn’t just him imagining things. 

“If you hadn’t healed me all those times, then I’d be dead,” Naruto said honestly. He didn’t remember having his throat cut open as a newborn, not the way his Aneue remembered it, or falling out of their crib head-first, or most of the times the other kids had tried to kill him at the orphanage, but he did know that it was only the Fox healing him that had kept him breathing long enough for help to arrive. 

“I’d have let you die in a heartbeat if I wouldn’t die with you, you pathetic, mud-crawling worm,” the Fox snarled, their tails lashing behind them angrily. 

“I know,” Naruto agreed, and he could see that he had surprised the Fox with his easy acceptance and lack of indignation or anger at what seemed to Naruto to be a very obvious fact. “But it’s still good manners to say thank you, and I am grateful.” 

The Fox snarled at him again, clearly agitated. 

“What are you doing here?” They demanded. “What do you want from me? Let me guess– you want more of my chakra,” the Fox laughed then, the sound vicious and terrifying as they loomed over Naruto. “You humans,” they spat, “you’re always taking and taking and taking, just snivelling cockroaches too greedy for power to care about its cost!” 

Naruto felt his eyes widen. “It doesn’t hurt you when I use your chakra, does it?” He demanded, horrified. “I didn’ mean to! I swear to you, on Inari-sama’s Name, I didn’ ever mean to hurt you!” 

The Fox laughed again, the ugly sound tearing at Naruto’s ear drums and making his teeth hurt. “You want me to believe the thief cares for his victim?” They sneered. 

“I mean, not usually,” Naruto freely admitted, deciding that honesty would probably serve him better in this case. “But I’m usually stealin’ from the villagers in Konoha, and they’re shitty to me, so I don’t care about them.” He paused for a moment, not sure if what he said next would piss off the Fox more or not. “I guess that’s why even though it makes me sad that it happened, I do understand why you don’t care that you killed my kaa-san, ‘cause she was shitty to you, and why you kept destroying Konoha, even when you broke free of the Sharingan’s control, ‘cause Konoha was always shitty to you too.”

There was a moment of dead silence.

“And how,” the Fox said, in a voice of terrible, terrible calm that Naruto didn’t trust for a moment, not as the temperature around him was rapidly rising to an unbearable heat, “would you know anything about that?” 

Naruto was pretty sure that if this was the real world and not his mindscape his skin would be melting from his bones at this point, the heat was so unbearable. He forged on though, regardless of the pain. He was used to pain, after all; this was just another breed of it, in the end.

“Because you told my sister,” he answered the Fox honestly. “Or, the Yin part of you did.”

“I would never!” the Fox hissed, all poison and hate. 

Naruto swallowed. “You did,” he said. “And I can prove it.”

“Oh, you can prove it, can you?” Mocked the Fox as they started to pace in their cage, and the sight of the desecrated shrine made Naruto feel slightly ill. “And just how do you think you will go about proving it to me?” 

Naruto took a deep breath to brace himself, instinctively knowing just how badly the Fox was going to react to what he was about to say next. “Hi,” he repeated his earlier greeting, lame as it was. “It’s nice to meet you… Kurama.”

Kurama’s chakra burned, and Naruto found himself choking on a gasping wheeze at the sudden shock of burning alive, his eyes flying open as he was pushed violently from the shrine-cage in his mind, to Inari’s shrine, where he was still kneeling across from Fuyuko.

“Naruto?” his sister demanded, reaching out to grasp his hands in her own, concern shining in her deep ocean-blue eyes. Not that he’d ever seen the ocean, but he had seen paintings of it. “Are you okay?” Fuyuko asked, and Naruto had to take several deep breaths and pat down the skin on his arms and face, checking that it was still there and not burnt or charred or melted away before he could answer.

“Kurama was really, really angry,” he admitted, and watched his sister’s expression crease with her concern. “I’m gonna win them over, though,” he said determinedly. “Just watch me!” 

Fuyuko’s face relaxed slightly and Naruto felt her chakra reach for his, the deep, deep love she felt blanketing him, cooling away the last embers of Kurama’s burning rage that lingered on his skin.

“Oh little prince,” she murmured, “I don’t doubt it for a moment.” She paused slightly, then added, “it’s ‘I’m going to win them over’, not ‘gonna’.” And Naruto couldn’t help but laugh. 

He wondered how long it would take her to realise he mostly used the slang spoken commonly in the streets of the Yūkaku on purpose– she probably already did realise, but the faces she made when he did were just too funny, and it made the people around him underestimate him. Which was almost unforgivably stupid of them– the Yūkaku’s street kids were bred vicious and hungry, hardened by the choices they were forced into, prepared to dig their nails and teeth into anything precious to them and every scrap that they called their own, willing to tear apart the shinigami itself with their bare hands to defend what was theirs. 

Naruto knew he would win Kurama over, because Kurama was one of his, whether the Fox knew it or not. Kurama had been with him as long as his sister; even in the womb they had been cradled by the Fox’s chakra, and the Fox had protected him all Naruto’s life– he owed Kurama a debt, and Naruto was determined to pay it back, to be more than just another in a long line of the Fox’s jailers. And more than that, just like Naruto yearned to be free of the prison of hate that was Konoha, he was determined that Kurama would be freed from their prison too. 

Naruto thought he would have probably loved his parents, but that didn’t mean he had to love the choices they’d made– and Naruto wasn’t sure he could ever really forgive that they’d made him an unwilling warden to a wild being of chaos and free-will. Kurama was a being meant only for freedom and wilderness, and instead they had been trapped so they could be used and abused by humans, with their one, desperate attempt to break free thwarted by Naruto’s parents.  

Even good people could make bad choices, Naruto knew, like Mito-baachan, who had helped Hashirama seal all the Bijuu and then distribute them amongst the Hidden Villages, and like his parents, who had kept Kurama a hostage to Konoha and condemned their twin newborns with the terrible burden of being unwilling jailers weighing on their hearts. 

Naruto couldn’t imagine a life without the scraps of freedom he had fought for, even mostly restricted to the Yūkaku as it was considering the general attitudes and behaviour towards him in Konoha proper. And as he knelt in Inari-sama’s shrine, opposite his sister, Naruto vowed then and there that just like Fuyuko, he would do everything in his power to free Kurama from the prison of the seal. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Naruto caught a glimpse of flickering sleek white tails and a gleaming fox’s grin as something shifted within him, almost like that clicking of the tumblers in a keyhole when Naruto had manoeuvred the lock picks just right to undo the lock. Naruto knew then that Inari-sama had heard his oath, and the god had both blessed him and bound him to his word, locking the promise into his blood, chakra, and soul. 

Naruto found that he wasn’t upset or disturbed; even without the binding, he prided himself on never going back on the promises he made– not the lies he fed the Hokage, Academy teachers and most of the asshole kids at the Academy, of course, but the real promises, the important ones. Kanna and Fuyuko had taught him to respect the gods though, unpredictable and unfathomable as Fuyuko had warned him that they could be, and Naruto mumbled his thanks to Inari-sama for his blessing, bowing in place as he prayed for success in his endeavours to win over Kurama. 

“Ready to go?” Fuyuko murmured when he finally straightened back up. 

“Almost,” Naruto sighed, shifting from the seiza so he could flop down across the floor of the shrine they had lovingly restored, resting his head on her lap. “Can we just stay a bit longer?” He asked plaintively.

Fuyuko smiled down at him, her gentle hands reaching to run through his hair, over and over, as she blanketed him in her chakra, like he was sinking into the calm, still waters of the deepest oceans. 

“We can stay here as long as you’d like,  little prince,” she murmured, and Naruto closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the ocean that was his sister’s presence, basking in their peaceful sanctuary together before he’d have to don his mask of incompetence and immaturity once more as they ventured back out into Konoha. 

~

Now that he knew how to access his mindscape, Naruto made sure to visit it at least once a day in an attempt to speak with Kurama. Each time, without fail, the Fox would snarl at him, maybe spit out a few insults, and then use chakra that burned with hate-resentment-fury to force Naruto out of the shrine-cage and back to the external world. 

Naruto didn’t give up though. Even as days turned to weeks that turned to months, he continued visiting Kurama each day, never letting his determination to befriend, or to at least wear the Fox down enough to talk properly to him instead of just growling insults, wane. Naruto thought that Kurama might have softened slightly since the appearance of the foxfire that danced across the walls of the shrine ever since Inari-sama had blessed him, all white and glowing like fire and mist and magic. Naruto had caught Kurama gazing wistfully on more than one occasion before the Fox caught sight of him and abruptly snarled a few insults before kicking him out. 

It was almost eight months after his first (somewhat disastrous) attempt to communicate with Kurama that the Fox finally deigned to have a proper conversation with him instead of insulting him and then immediately forcing him out of the mindscape. 

“Why,” the Fox snarled at him, those terrifying fangs bared as nine, powerful tails of burning chakra thrashed agitatedly against the walls of the shrine-cage, “are you so persistent?” 

Persistent, Naruto realised, was easily the nicest thing Kurama had ever called him. 

Was he finally managing to wear the Fox down?

“And why,” Kurama continued, their nine tails thrashing about even more violently now, as if they had a mind of their own, “would I tell you my Name?” 

“It’s a really long story,” Naruto told him honestly. 

Kurama laughed, the grating sound of it as it echoed off the shrine walls anything but humorous. 

“Oh little meat-sack,” they hissed, teeth bared, “haven’t you realised by now? In this prison I have nothing but time.” 

Now “meat-sack” was definitely more familiar for Naruto to hear directed his way by Kurama. Honestly, it felt almost like a nickname at this point, like the Fox couldn’t even summon the energy to pour the same amount of hatred into it that they had in the earlier months of his ongoing campaign to wear the Fox down into accepting his presence in the shrine-cage so they could have a proper conversation. 

“When my dad sealed you,” Naruto began carefully, unsure what would actually set Kurama off considering this whole conversation would be like tiptoeing around a field booby-trapped with exploding tags, “he, um, separated Yin and Yang you.”

“Oh believe me,” Kurama hissed malevolently, “even if I tried, I will never be able to forget the agony of having my very being torn apart again!” Which, fair. Naruto would find someone ripping bits of him off pretty hard to forget too, especially if it had happened more than once.

“Well, my dad sealed you into me,” he told the Fox, “but the other half of you was sealed into my twin sister. She figured out how to talk to you ages before I did– she’s a lot cleverer than I am, and she’s amazing at diplomacy and politics and all that complicated stuff.”

Naruto wouldn’t say he was bad at playing what Fuyuko sometimes referred to as ‘the game of thrones’ in a bitter, bitter voice, her chakra sharp and lashing out like the violent spray of waves against jagged rocks in a storm, but he knew his skill was nothing compared to the elegant dance of wits and wordplay that his sister, a Queen who with a sharp mind and silver tongue had bloodlessly conquered Seven Kingdoms, was capable of when unleashed upon Konoha’s Council and the Hokage. There was a reason everyone in their little Pack deferred to Fuyuko, even if Naruto wondered if Kakashi and Tenzō and Sasuke realised it.

Kakashi might. He looked at Naruto’s sister like she was the moon, and he was the willing tides of the ocean, following wherever she guided.

Their Anija looked at Fuyuko like if anything ever happened to her, he would bleed the whole world dry before pulling his own beating heart out of his chest.

Their Anija was kind of intense. That was probably why he seemed to get along so well with Sasuke, and seemed pretty bewildered by Naruto a lot of the time.

The Fox seemed pretty intense too, Naruto thought, as he watched them loom over him, as best they could in the shrine-cage.   

“You truly expect me to believe that part of me was foolish enough to tell their jailer anything at all?” Kurama demanded. “Let alone my Name?” 

“My sister is very special,” Naruto explained, because ‘special’ was really the only word he knew that could fully sum up the woman that was Uzumaki Fuyuko, Alpha of the Spirit Wolves, Last Princess of the Whirlpools and current Regent of the Uzumaki Clan, and Queen Sansa of House Stark, First of her name and First of her kind, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Fuyuko swore an oath to you,” Naruto explained to the Fox, “she promised that she would see you and your siblings free from your prisons, and she’s been studying sealing ever since.”

Naruto wasn’t sure how he expected Kurama to react to this admission, though he probably shouldn’t have been surprised by the angered snarl. 

“More of your lies!” Kurama roared, and Naruto wanted to groan in exasperation as he found himself kicked out of the mindscape once more, opening his eyes and slumping his shoulders from where he was kneeling on the nice, thick rug coloured a deep shade of red that Sasuke had brought from his old house to their little shared apartment.

“I really thought I was getting through to them this time,” he complained to Fuyuko, who was looking over at him from their shabby couch with a raised eyebrow, her embroidery resting on her lap and Pakkun pretending to snooze at her feet. Beside her, Sasuke was completing his Academy homework– Naruto rarely bothered to even try as it fit his careless persona to not hand in the assigned work, plus his Anija, Tenzo-nii and Gai-ojisan all taught him so much more and so much better than the Academy ever did, especially with Mizuki always attempting to sabotage him. 

Naruto really thought Mizuki would have figured out by now that his acid reflux always got so much worse when he purposefully marked Naruto down on tests or tried teaching him the wrong movements during katas– for an actual graduated ninja, Mizuki was terrible at recognising he was being poisoned. Sasuke just said that nobody could cure stupidity.

“I tried to tell Kurama about how you work with them, but I don’t think they believed me,” Naruto told Fuyuko with a groan as he flopped back from the kneeling position so he was laying back on the rug, looking up at the ceiling. One of the cracks in the roof almost resembled a fox, he thought crossly, which really didn’t help to distract him from his failure, not when he’d been so sure that he was getting somewhere with Kurama at last. 

Naruto wanted to rant more about how close he felt he’d been to having an actual, real conversation with Kurama which didn’t end with the Fox kicking him out, but he couldn’t actually say anything out loud about the promise his sister had made to Kurama to free them from the seal– as much as he and Fuyuko both trusted Kakashi, neither were sure how their Anija would react to their plan to free the Fox and Naruto wasn’t stupid enough to think that Pakkun was actually asleep at Fuyuko’s feet. He knew that the pug would go to Kakashi immediately if he felt Naruto and Fuyuko were putting themselves in danger by messing with the seal that kept Kurama trapped.

The twins didn’t have to hide anything from Sasuke, at least, which Naruto was glad about. Even though he knew that the main reason Sasuke didn’t care was because he’d be happy to watch Kurama burn Konoha to ashes now he knew the truth about his brother and Danzo and the Third Hokage’s role in the massacre of his clan. 

Sasuke forgave about as easily as Naruto’s sister did– in other words, no matter how patient he needed to be or how much planning it required, Sasuke would seek justice for the terrible wrong that had been committed against his kin. His idea of ‘justice’ was about as proportionate as Fuyuko’s idea of it too– Sasuke was, in Naruto’s opinion, maybe a little bit too invested in Fuyuko’s stories of the Faceless Girl and House Frey and The Bastard and His Hounds, but that was something to worry about another day.

Over on the couch, Fuyuko had started looking thoughtful, which usually meant she’d come up with an idea that would probably cause the Hokage a lot of trouble. “I’ve been thinking” she said. 

“Dangerous words coming from you,” Sasuke mumbled from where he was still hunched over his homework, and the ‘sleeping’ Pakkun gave a snore that sounded much more like a snort. 

Fuyuko’s mouth twitched up at the corners, though she continued on as if she hadn’t heard Sasuke’s interruption. 

“Kurama– Yin-Kurama, that is,” she clarified, “suggested that it could be possible for us to assist them to communicate with Yang-Kurama.”

“How is that possible?” Sasuke asked, apparently interested enough in their discussion now to look away from the Academy homework. Honestly, Naruto wasn’t sure how Sasuke found any of it interesting in the first place but apparently he was in some sort of silent, one-sided competition with that clever pink-haired girl at the Academy, Haruno Sakura– she was Fuyuko’s friend Ayaka’s niece, Naruto was pretty sure– over kept scoring higher then him in the non-practical tests. The constant losses in the one-sided competition had Sasuke even more driven to study and learn then he usually was.

Honestly, with how much Sakura blushed every time Sasuke glared at her, Naruto was pretty sure she’d sabotage herself intentionally to let Sasuke win if she knew about Sasuke’s one-sided competition. That was probably why Sasuke hadn’t actually said anything to her about it. Fan girls were weird. At least Sakura wasn’t one of the overly obsessed ones– Fuyuko had been very unimpressed when a frustrated, upset and at the end of his rope Sasuke had told her about how some of the girls in his class were invading his personal space to cling onto him, and how they used to break into his home at the Uchiha district to steal his things, including his underwear, and how none of the Academy teachers seemed to care when they violated his space, his privacy, his belongings, and his body. 

Fuyuko’s expression had gone icy, icy cold and dangerous as Sasuke vented to the twins after a particularly frustrating day at the Academy where one of the girls had tried to hug Sasuke from behind and when Saskue had reacted instinctively by punching her in the throat, he had been given detention.

The oceans of Fuyuko’s chakra had settled to something dangerously still as she listened to this before she disappeared off to have a short conversation with Anija and Gai-ojisan. She’d then told him and Sasuke not to attend the Academy the next day and Naruto certainly hadn’t taken any convincing to skive off. When he and Sasuke returned the following day, it was to find a very cowed class hunched quietly in their seats and all of the fanatic fangirls keeping a wide berth between Sasuke and themselves. 

During the lunch break, Naruto and Sasuke had learned from Shikamaru and Chōji that a terrifying kunoichi named Anko had barged into the middle of Iruka’s lecture and announced that she was going to be their guest speaker for the rest of the day. Anko had then proceeded to threaten all the students in class with charges for sexual assault if they ever touched a classmate without either their explicit consent or during an approved sparring match before describing in great detail exactly the sort of torture she enjoyed subjecting sexual predators to. Apparently there had been photos involved, plus a couple of dismembered fingers, hands, and even a penis that she’d brought in as props– about half the class had vomited, and Chōji admitted that even he had been put off his food for the rest of the day. 

After she had threatened the class into a sufficiently terrified, traumatised silence, Anko had apparently then gone on to explain what “bad touches” and “sexually harassing behaviours” could look like, referring back to the corresponding punishments they could look forward to as she did so. She had also added that breaking into someone’s home was considered a serious crime in a ninja village, and that the perpetrators could expect to face very real consequences, including a visit to T&I to have a Yamanaka scour their minds to ensure they weren’t enemy agents, as per Konoha’s official protocols. 

Sasuke had been very grateful for the lack of outright harassment he’d received that day, and so far every day going forward. There were still some minor problems, such as all the staring and blushing, but Sasuke was able to deal with that much more easily, determined to ignore it and focus on the Academy lessons, and he’d thanked Kakashi-nii and Gai-ojisan for their part in arranging the ‘intervention’, with Kakashi giving him a quick hair ruffle while Gai beamed with the strength of a hundred suns during the springtime of Youth. 

Personally, Naruto found his time at the Academy was better used planning pranks or trying to talk with Kurama than listening to the lessons, so he tried to focus back on his sister, even as his thoughts bounced frustratingly around in his head. 

“Kurama– Yin-Kurama, that is, told me that they are able to communicate with their siblings in a shared, liminal space– a non-physical space,” Fuyuko clarified for Naruto, seeing his confused expression, before continuing her explanation. “I want to see if we can both access that liminal space at the same time with Yin-Kurama’s help.”

“How would we do that?” Naruto asked curiously. 

“I’m not entirely certain if this will work,” Fuyuko said, “but Yin-Kurama has suggested that if we use ninshū while channelling their chakra and attempting to access our own mindscapes, it could allow them to pull us both into the liminal space that connects all their siblings. Yin-Kurama also said that even if that doesn’t work, there’s a chance it will allow them to share their memories with their Yang-self.” 

“Let’s try it,” Naruto said determinedly. 

“Let me put up some barrier seals first,” Fuyuko said, looking around the apartment with a slight grimace. “In case something goes wrong, or we end up turning into a giant beacon of Kurama’s chakra, I don’t want us ending up with a mob at our door or ANBU trying to break through the windows. Sasuke, Pakkun, if you want to avoid what is likely to be quite a bit of exposure to Kurama’s chakra, I would recommend you leave the apartment for an hour or two.” 

“I’ll stay and observe,” Sasuke said firmly, setting his homework down beside him, now paying them his full attention. “That way if something goes wrong, either Pakkun or I can run and get help.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” grumbled Pakkun, opening his eyes and letting out an annoyed sigh that did little to hide the tension in his small body. “You really think this is a good idea, pups?” The pug asked uneasily. 

“Kurama can’t hurt us when they’re trapped by the seal,” Fuyuko told Pakkun as she stood and moved about their apartment, pressing her palms against the walls to burn seals into the wood. “And, more importantly, Kurama won’t hurt us. I trust them.” 

Pakkun still didn’t look very confident, but he didn’t try to stop the twins as Fuyuko joined Naruto on the rug, kneeling in seiza and reaching out to physically grasp both his hands in her own before reaching out to him with her chakra too. 

Naruto closed his eyes, letting the familiar sensation of his twin’s chakra settle over him, like he was sinking into a deep, deep ocean, her love and protectiveness and determination cradling him in the dangerous depths he knew would never harm him. It was second nature now to let his chakra reach back, letting the tempest inside him merge with his twin’s oceans, the wild winds whipping the still ocean waters into a whirlpool, a maelstrom, that was all them.

When they were this connected to each other, as tightly bound and as close to one person they could be without sinking into the others’ cells, Naruto didn’t need Fuyuko-Sansa-Aneue to speak to tell him to reach for the Fox’s chakra, he could just feel her intentions, their communication more honest and pure then any spoken word could ever be. 

Naruto could see the visible flicker and flare of the familiar burning red-red-red chakra where their hands were connected as they each reached into themselves, to the prison in their soul; behind his sister, Naruto could see a single column of burning red-red-red chakra– a Tail, he realised. He didn’t have time to think if the chakra burning around him looked similar before the world around him abruptly went white and then he was–

–falling. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE:

Sansa opened her eyes and found herself standing in an empty, white space that stretched as far as her eyes could see. Considering the torture that Danzo had subjected her to in what she referred to mentally as 'the white-room', she would have thought that the endless expanse of white around her would trigger panic.

It didn't.

Instead, Sansa felt oddly calm and almost disconnected from her emotions as her surroundings shifted and blurred, until she could see the familiar form of her twin flickering in and out of focus, like a reflection in the rippling water of a pond.

"Interesting," a familiar voice rumbled, and Sansa smiled as she felt more than witnessed the Yin-self of Kurama standing at her back, forever her watchful guardian.

The Yang-self of Kurama's being took longer to ripple into existence in the strange white plane. Sansa put it down to the currently weaker connection between Naruto and Yang-Kurama, their souls not as closely entwined as hers was with Yin-Kurama. Naruto appeared more solid now, as if Yang-Kurama's presence had strengthened his own in the liminal space.

"How is this possible?" Yang-Kurama growled, all burning eyes of hate and bared fangs, the aggression that had once been so familiar now entirely foreign to Sansa after all this time. Naruto appeared entirely unfazed by Yang-Kurama's reaction, which didn't surprise her considering what he'd shared about his efforts to communicate with them so far.

In the end, it was neither Sansa or her brother who answered Yang-Kurama; instead, it was Yin-Kurama who spoke up. "It is through ninshū that we have made this possible," they said, stepping out from where they had loomed behind Sansa in what had once been a threat yet now brought her a sense of safety and security, the reassuring presence of the protector in her soul. Slowly, Yin-Kurama started to close the distance between the two halves of themself. Sansa wondered if it was just in her mind that Yin-Kurama seemed stronger, brighter than their Yang-self.

"What do these apes know of ninshū?" Sneered Yang-Kurama, lips pulled back from jagged, dagger-like fangs. "Even Kushina forgot the practices of her own people, forgot how to use her chakra as anything but a weapon, and then she stole mine to do the same!"

"Kushina may have forgotten," Yin-Kurama agreed, a growl of their own in their voice at the memory, "and Konoha, a village built on lies and corpses, has never known ninshū since the days of its founding. None have been worthy of the chakra their ancestors were gifted– not until now."

"Gifted!" Scoffed Yang-Kurama, and there was a terrible rage in their voice. "Their ancestors were not gifted with chakra, they stole it!"

Sansa blinked, startled. She had assumed the people in this world had always been born with chakra. To learn that it had once been otherwise was curious to her– especially as Yin-Kurama had never brought it up before, even when they had been discussing chakra with Sansa and Mito. Yet, perhaps that was why Kurama had not raised the matter– after all, it did beg the question, if chakra was stolen then there must have been someone or something that it had been stolen from.

"These sacrifices are fruit of the poison tree," Yang-Kurama continued to rage. "They are the spawn of thieves and warmongers–"

"–and by all right and reason, we should hate them and everything that they stand for," Yin-Kurama agreed. "And yet, you are overlooking what is obvious."

"Just what is it I am overlooking?" Demanded Yang-Kurama uneasily, and Yin-Kurama smiled, a terrifying, cruel, vulpine smile.

"That given enough time, humanity will always find a way to destroy itself before it ever learns from its history," Yin-Kurama purred, no uncertainty in their voice. "The thieves and warmongers of Konoha fear our power and might, they always have, and for their cowardice and fear we have been chained for nearly a century.

"But we existed for centuries before these Hidden Villages, and we will exist for centuries after they are bones and ruins, watching as history repeats itself over and over. We watch now as our jailers are abused and used by those greedy for power they fear yet believe they can control, just as it has been since the very first of us. And just as the very first of us did, just as so many have done, we will watch as the weapons those thieves and warmongers hungered to use for their own gain turn against their abusers and burn everything to the ground."

Sansa could feel the impact of Yin-Kurama's words resonating within her, even if they had not been directed her way. Yang-Kurama looked considering as they absorbed their otherself's words, glancing down at Naruto as if seeing Sansa's brother for the first time. Sansa forced herself to push down all the questions she had– the first of them?– to instead focus on how Yin-Kurama's speech seemed to be reaching their other-self.

"The first time I spoke to my jailer," Yin-Kurama continued, taking the final few steps to close the gap between themself and Yang-Kurama and look deep into the burning gold eyes of their other-self, "she addressed me with respect. She entreated upon me to flare my chakra to call attention and summon aid for her injured brother, yet she did not demand I do this without compensation, as every sacrifice before her has; I think it did not even occur to her, that she should force me, that she should use me against my will.

"She offered a trade for the boon of my assistance, apologising as she did so for how little she had to offer me in return. I told her my price was my freedom, of course. I expected her to refuse, to bargain, or to discard false niceties to use me against my will. I was wrong; she did not hesitate a moment to agree, to bind herself in oath. Her exact words, I recall, were along the lines of 'I thought you were going to ask for something difficult'.

"When I later told her of our siblings, of how they are chained and bound as we are, she shed true tears for our suffering, and then vowed she would do whatever was in her power to see not just myself, but all of us free."

"And you believed her?" Yang-Kurama asked incredulously.

"She has given me no reason to doubt her," Yin-Kurama said firmly. "She has dedicated herself to learning the art of sealing, she created a seal for the rebels of Kirigakure to use to free Isobu– and only to free our sister, not to bind her back in chains– and she has honestly informed me that with her current skill, she could destroy the seal binding us, though the cost would be her life. It was I who told her to continue studying the art of sealing until she is able to free us without dying herself. She agreed, however vowed that if she were in danger of imminent death, she would break the seal to grant my freedom instead of allowing me to discorporate with her."

"How?" Yang-Kurama asked, and there was something terribly vulnerable in their voice, in the agitated way their nine glorious tails jerked wildly about behind them as they stared, wide-eyed, at their Yin-self. "How can you trust them?"

Yin-Kurama's answer was simple. "Faith," they said, then leaned forward to press the side of their muzzle against their other-self's. 

Sansa watched with wide eyes as Yin- and Yang-Kurama's chakra flared between and around them, visible and golden, as bright and brilliant as the rays of the sun reflecting off still ocean waters. There was no hatred or anger in this chakra; instead, there was something unnameable, something strong and steady and solid– something that felt a little like faith. And as their chakra crowned them with beautiful, brilliant gold, Kurama's two selves seemed to blur together, appearing as one.

"Wow," whispered Naruto, speaking up for the first time since Yin- and Yang-Kurama had started talking. He was blinking rapidly, just as she was, appearing just as unable as Sansa was to look away from the glorious sight, no matter the glaring brightness of it.

After what seemed to be a small eternity, each of Kurama's selves took a deliberate step back, the golden chakra darkening to the more familiar, burning red before flickering out of sight.

"I understand now," Yang-Kurama said, tilting their head as they looked down at Sansa, considering. "Little Vixen," they said, speaking slowly as if testing how the words fit in their mouth. "You're going to lose."

"What is it you believe I will lose, your grace?" Sansa asked politely; for all that Kurama's two selves appeared to have shared memories, for as long they continued to exist as two separate selves she would not make any foolish or impolite assumptions of familiarity.

Yang-Kurama bared their teeth in what was almost a smile. "I will not be declaring my love for the whelp anytime soon– which means you will owe me a gold dragon."

It took Sansa a moment to remember the conversation between herself and Yin-Kurama where she had playfully bet a gold dragon that their other-self would not be able to help but love Naruto.

"I'm afraid it is you who will lose," she disagreed, smiling up at them. Her smile seemed to take them aback.

"Aneue is always right," Naruto confirmed, before pausing. "Wait, whelp? Do you mean me?" His face brightened into a wide, beaming smile. "That's gotta be the nicest name you've ever called me– I knew I'd start growing on you!"

"Like flesh-eating bacteria," Yang-Kurama snarled back at her brother, as if on reflex.

"So you're saying we have a symbiotic relationship!" Naruto gasped, continuing to beam up at Yang-Kurama, and Sansa hid her smile at her brother's very intentional misinterpretation of the insult. "Gai-ojisan told me an' Sasuke all about how the bacteria in our gut helps with our health!"

Yang-Kurama looked as supremely unimpressed as a gigantic manifestation of chakra and chaos could look, before apparently deciding to ignore Naruto and turn their attention back to Sansa. As soon as they looked away from him, Sansa could see Naruto's sunshine-bright smile curling into his trickster's grin, all sly and laughing.

"How much longer?" Yang-Kurama demanded. "How much longer will we remain chained?"

"I've been doing my best," Sansa told them, grimacing as she thought back on the past few months, where between her busy apprenticeship, her need to fulfil her technical obligations as a shinobi 'studying' to be tokubetsu jōnin with a sealing specialisation as per the Hokage's conditions for her apprenticeship, her need to keep her body in fit and fighting condition due to Kakashi's definitely not ungrounded paranoia about her personal safety while in the village, and "assisting" with Root's integration into the village, she had been doing her best to continue deconstructing the seal. 

"It just– it feels like there's something missing," she said, frustrated. "I feel like I'm trying to brute force my way through a padlocked door when I should really be trying to find the key. I just don't know where that metaphorical key is!"

"Seals of blood and ink naturally weaken over time," Yin-Kurama said slowly. "Namikaze would have known that. He was as smart as he was ruthless– he would have taken some sort of countermeasure to protect the village from a weakening Jinchūriki seal."

"Considering everything that happened that night," Sansa frowned thoughtfully, "Minato wouldn't have had much time to create any sort of secondary defense, nor did he have access to someone to keep it safe."

Yang-Kurama bared their fangs, their sudden burst of renewed hate like a physical weight Sansa could feel pressing down on her.

"I know exactly who was there with him that cursed night, and exactly who would agree to bind us and keep us bound," they snarled. Yin-Kurama seemed to have reached the same realisation and the sudden look of hateful fury on their face was a perfect mirror to their other self.

"The toads," they snarled together.

"Namikaze was contracted with the toad spirits of Mount Myōboku," Yin-Kurama explained to Sansa, moving about the white space agitatedly, their teeth bared. "He summoned one of the chief toads, Gamabunta, when I was ripped from Kushina's seal, and that foul creature helped him imprison me, even after the sharingan's control over me had been broken! He helped to hold me down for Namikaze to tear me in half and lock me back away!"

Sansa felt her lips thin. "So, you believe this Gamabunta will hold the key?" She asked.

"Either he will, or a scroll toad," Yang-Kurama growled.

Sansa blinked.

"Excuse me, did you just say a scroll toad?" she asked incredulously.

Really, Sansa felt she had been incredibly generous in accepting all the impossibilities and oddities of this world she had found herself reborn into, but a scroll toad?

"That's just what you humans call them," Yang-Kurama said dismissively. "They guard the secrets written on their abdomen until their contractor dies, residing in the stomachs of their contractor until then."

"That sounds crazy," Naruto bluntly said exactly what Sansa was thinking. "And really gross."

"Minato died that night, so wouldn't the contract have died with him?" Sansa asked, grimacing in unison with her twin– he was absolutely correct, it was gross.

"It would have," Yin-Kurama said slowly.

"If Namikaze was the only one contracted to the toads." Yang-Kurama finished.

"So... who do we have to cut open to get the scroll toad out of their belly?" Naruto asked. They all stared at him. "What?" He protested. "They're obviously a bad guy if they're helping keep Kurama trapped, and it's not like it will kill them. Probably. It shouldn't kill them if they get help, anyway– Momo-neesan told me when she was pregnant how women get their bellies cut open sometimes to help get a baby out, plus there was this one time when Waka-gashira was really pissed off at this guy, and he totally gutted him and all his intestines fell out, but he didn't die for ages." Naruto finished this horrifying spiel by nodding sagely.

Yang-Kurama swung their head in Sansa's direction.

"Fine," they said begrudgingly. "Maybe we can split the gold dragon."

Sansa held back an unladylike snort because being amused at Yang-Kurama's willingness to admit they might be able to tolerate Naruto was easier than thinking on the implications of Naruto's rambling which had tellingly revealed just how much of Naruto's understanding of 'normal' had been shaped by biggest influences on his life so far– apart from herself, of course– the Yūkaku's whores and yakuza.

Her amusement– and repressed horror– quickly dwindled, however, as she thought back to what had started Naruto's rambling in the first place.

"I only know of one other toad contractor close enough to Minato that Minato would have entrusted him with the key," she said grimly. "Our supposed godfather, Jiraiya."

"Who is very inconveniently and overwhelmingly absent from your lives," Yin-Kurama finished for her.

"He writes letters, though," Naruto pointed out. "And he seems to feel really, really guilty about, you know, that inconvenient and overwhelming absence in our lives."

"What are you thinking?" Sansa asked, because Naruto truly had a brilliant mind for tactics, even if he usually applied it to pranks and other mischief that aimed to annoy and inconvenience the general population of Konoha proper. Naruto grinned his fox-grin back at her.

"I think I'm gonna send my godfather an invitation to my next birthday party," he told her. "And write about how sad I'll be if he misses it."

Sansa laughed at the emotional manipulation Naruto had proposed, one that would certainly be ineffective coming from her but perfectly believable coming from the persona Naruto donned when interacting with anyone outside what he called their "Pack". Even Yin- and Yang-Kurama seemed impressed by Naruto's quick thinking and cunning.

"Then we have a plan," she said.

"We have a plan," both of Kurama's selves spoke as one and the endless white plane seemed to ripple; Sansa watched as Yang-Kurama and Naruto faded from existence and then she abruptly opened her eyes to the small apartment she shared with Naruto, Sasuke, and most of the time Kakashi, or Tenzō if Kakashi was on a mission.

In front of her, Naruto had also opened his eyes and was shaking his head slightly, as if trying to clear water from his ears.

"That was really trippy," he said.

"Trippy? What does that mean?" Sansa asked, unfamiliar with the expression.

"And more importantly, kid," Pakkun spoke from the couch, sounding quite perturbed, "how would you even know what 'trippy' feels like?"

Naruto affected a confused expression that Sansa didn't believe for a second.

"I dunno what you're talkin' 'bout," he said, all perfect innocence. Sansa hadn't missed the return of the Yūkaku accent to his voice, and there was a deeply grieving part of her that mourned how her brother's need to hide was so ingrained that he didn't feel safe to truly be himself, even within the walls of their apartment.

"How did it go?" Sasuke interrupted before either Sansa or Pakkun could continue interrogating Naruto, though Sansa wasn't sure what it was she should be interrogating him about exactly.

"It was terrifying," Naruto answered immediately, giving Sasuke a wide-eyed look, though before Sasuke could start to panic he added, "I have never seen the Fox laugh before. I didn't even know that was something they could do!"

Sasuke relaxed slightly, some of the tension leaving his face. "So it worked?" He asked.

"It worked," Sansa confirmed.

And now, for the first time in months, she had a new lead on breaking the seal that kept Kurama imprisoned– and if freeing Kurama came at the cost of Jiraiya's life? Well, it was Jiraiya who had failed to realise the Hokage had given Sansa over to Danzō to hone into a weapon, it was Jiraiya who had continued her shinobi training before the Chūnin Exams, it was Jiraiya who had been complicit with the Hokage in forcing Sansa to stay a shinobi against her will. And shinobi? They were indoctrinated to take any steps necessary to ensure the success of their mission.

Why should Sansa act in any way other than what they had taught her?

::

Uzumaki Yoka didn't believe them when the rumours first started trickling in.

Yoka had been young when Uzushio bled and burned– but not young enough to forget the sands soaked black with blood and the cracked, crushed rubble blockading the streets, nor those broken, bloated bodies of the dying and dead and the ash that carried on the wind, even long after they'd left their island home so far behind.

There were some things that a person could never be young enough to forget. But still, Yoka had been young. And in her earlier years, she had been less aware of the danger she was in just for the mere fact that she existed. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing either, not when she considered the sheer amount of trauma her earlier memories were drowned in. Like all the surviving Uzumaki, Yoka and her parents had targets on their backs– and, like a good many of the Uzushio survivors, Yoka's parents had not trusted that Konoha would keep them safe, their grudge against Konoha's failure to aid them so great.

Yoka's father, Uzumaki Hamako, died in an ambush by Iwa nin when Yoka was eight.

Her mother, Uzumaki Arisa, died two years later at a small village bar, her throat cut open by Kiri nin until Yoka could see bone. Yoka had only survived because her hair was freshly dyed and the bar owner claimed that ten-year-old "Kimi-chan" was her niece, come to stay with her after her parents had died, all the loyal patrons of the small village's only bar backing up her story.

Yoka had spent the next eight years living in that small village, helping the bar owner in trade for food and a place to sleep. It was while working in the bar that she met her sweetheart, a shinobi from Kusagakure who took her back to his village and married her.

They loved each other and had a beautiful daughter together, their beloved Karin-chan, only for their life together to fall apart when a bratty toddler in the playground bit Karin, exposing her Uzumaki bloodline gift for healing. It was out of her desperate desire to protect her daughter that Yoka "volunteered" the use of her bloodline to Kusa's shinobi, even as Karin was forcibly enlisted into their Ninja Academy. The death of Yoka's husband on a "mission" soon after was no surprise– his death stripped Yoka and her daughter of any protection they had in the village, leaving them open to exploitation.

Yoka considered running to Konoha for refuge but ultimately she had decided against it when she learned that Konoha hadn't even been capable of keeping Kushina-hime, one of Yoka's father's cousins and only surviving member of his family, the Uzumaki's last Princess of the Whirlpools, alive. How could she trust that village with her Karin? How could she trust that they would not abuse her too?

How could she trust that they would keep Karin alive?

Yoka made the best of her situation in Kusa, telling herself that at least they were provided food, lodging, and protection from Kiri and Iwa, even as she dreaded the day that her civilian chakra system was unable to keep up with the heavy demand at the hospital to keep healing Kusa's shinobi. She knew that it would only be so long before it would be Karin in her place, and Yoka would be buried in the ground as just another discarded heap of Uzumaki bones.

And then the whispers came.

Onryō-hime, they called her.

Uzushio's wrathful ghost with her bloodied crown of rubble and bones, risen from the watery depths of her grave to wreak vengeance on those responsible for Uzushio's destruction.

Yoka listened as more and more rumours spread– of how Onryō-hime had summoned a tsunami to flood Kiri; of how she had wielded the lost weapon of the Uzukage of Uzushio against the entire court of the Water Daimyo; of how her hair was the burning red of the flames Uzushio had burned in and how she wore Uzushio's spiral inked on her face in the red of Uzushio's spilled blood.

Yoka listened to the rumors that Onryō-hime was not just an Uzushio nin– no, Onryō-hime was an Uzumaki.

And when the news came that those loyal to the Mizukage who had orchestrated a bloodline in Kiri's shinobi force had been defeated and that the Mizukage himself had been executed by Kiri's rebels in the wake of the Three-Tailed Bijuu tearing free of its seal and rampaging through the village before escaping into the watery depths of the oceans, Yoka knew.

The rumours had also said that Onryō-hime had burned the Mizukage with her touch as she mocked him to his face in the wake of her victory. Yoka may have been a child when Uzushio was destroyed, but she would never forget how her Uzumaki kin had wielded seals of pure chakra, seals that could sink invisible under a person's skin until the time came for them to be activated.

And Uzushio's Onryō-hime had burned the Mizukage with her touch.

Yoka packed her and Karin's things that very night, preparing to escape Kusagakure with her daughter with only one destination in her mind.

The last Princess of the Whirlpools awaited.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO:

Hiruzen could feel the headache pounding in his temples as his advisory Council gathered in his office to debrief on the coup in Kirigakure; his head of T&I department, head of his jōnin forces, head of ANBU, and Koharu and Homura, who Inoichi was still refusing to acknowledge even existed. Jiraiya was also present, looking exhausted as he slumped in place in his chair, head in his hands.

“So it’s been confirmed, then?” Shikaku prodded Hiruzen’s student, frowning. “The Mizukage, Karatachi Yagura, is dead?”

“Dead with his rotting corpse left hanging from the Mizukage Tower for all to see,” Jiraiya confirmed without even raising his head. “The coup was a bloodbath.”

“This is the Bloody Mist we’re talking about,” Homura pointed out. “Are we surprised?” Jiraiya snorted.

“Now you sound like Fuyuko-chan,” he muttered, before sighing heavily and elaborating. “The loyalists to Yagura, they knew what was going to happen to them under the new regime. Even after Yagura’s corpse was hung from the Mizukage’s Tower, they still fought to the death against the rebels until they were all cut down. Even the civilians fought against the loyalists, using whatever weapons they had, including their fists and teeth.”

“Kami-sama,” Inoichi muttered, shaking his head slightly.

“Do we know how it started?” Shikaku pressed Jiraiya for more information.

“Everyone does,” Jiraiya said grimly. “It’s not a secret, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s already spread all through Konoha and the other Hidden Villages. See, the rebels did something to Yagura; it caused his Jinchūriki seal to weaken enough that the Sanbi tore free of him. It killed Yagura, destroyed half the Mizukage Tower and trampled through the village before escaping into the ocean, swimming too far out and diving too deep for anyone to locate it.”

“So there is a Bijuu on the loose,” Koharu said warily. “I assume Kiri’s new leadership already have plans to recapture the demon?”

“I think their focus is more on rebuilding their village then trying to scour the unexplored depths of the ocean to find a chakra monster who happens to thrive in the sort of underwater environments that are very unfriendly to human lungs,” Jiraiya said dryly.

“If Kiri is occupied by its rebuilding efforts, then this gives us a golden opportunity to get our hands on the Sanbi,” Homura said eagerly, leaning forwards slightly. “Think– if Konoha has another Jinchūriki, that would let us outnumber all the other Hidden Villages!”

“Which would be very convenient for the war that Kiri would immediately wage against us for stealing their Bijuu,” Inoichi drawled, sending a disdainful look Homura’s way. “And that’s if we could even find it in the first place. As Jiraiya said, the ocean is the Sanbi’s territory, not ours. Anyone trying to find it would be at a disadvantage from the very start.”

“Enough,” Hiruzen interrupted, turning back to his exhausted student. “Do we know why the Jinchūriki seal weakened?” He asked.

“No,” Jiraiya shook his head, “but however it happened, there’s no questioning that the rebels were responsible. The timing of the seal weakening and the rebels attacking was planned to the exact moment. It didn’t happen by accident.”

The office was filled with unhappy murmuring at that. “You’re saying that there’s someone out there who could potentially sabotage the Kyuubi’s seal on the twins, killing them and freeing the Kyuubi?” Shikaku asked grimly.

“I honestly don’t know,” Jiraiya said, just as grim. “But I will be looking into this– it’s now my top priority.”

Hiruzen opened his mouth to continue questioning Jiraiya about the successful coup when an ANBU wearing a sparrow mask slipped in through his window.

Hiruzen knew that his ANBU knew better then to enter his office during a private meeting unless the matter was urgent, so he immediately turned his full attention on the shinobi. “Report,” he ordered.

“Hokage-sama,” the ANBU mask hid Sparrow’s expression, but everyone in the room could hear the tension in their voice. “There’s been a… large-scale incident in the marketplace.”

“An incident?” Hiruzen repeated, feeling the stress building behind his eyes. His headache was starting to pound now. Around him, the various members of his advisory council had straightened, fixing their attention on the messenger.

“It’s Uzumaki Naruto, sir,” Sparrow said, almost cringing in place as they were forced to be the bearer of bad news. “He was attacked by a… well, by a mob who had heard about the Sanbi’s escape. I believe they’d gotten worked up about the prospect of the Kyuubi escaping and sought to… prevent that, through any means necessary.”

Hiruzen closed his eyes and bit back the groan he wanted to utter.

How could this day get any worse?

“Is Naruto injured?” Inoichi asked sharply, and Hiruzen opened his eyes again as the ANBU hesitated.

“He suffered no life-threatening injuries,” Sparrow said slowly, which was of very little comfort considering the damage that could be done to a person without it being life-threatening, especially a boy with an enhanced healing factor. “But Uchiha Sasuke was with him at the time, and he doesn’t… well, he doesn’t heal like Uzumaki does.”

And that, Hiruzen realised with a sinking feeling, was exactly how his day could get worse after all.

::

Naruto was relieved when Iruka-sensei finally ended classes for the day. The Academy was better with Chiyoko-neesan there but Mizuki-teme had figured out that she was actually trying to help Naruto and he did his best to make sure she was stuck teaching other students so he could continue sabotaging Naruto.

Honestly, if Naruto was actually attending the Academy to learn how to be a shinobi, he’d be dead-last in truth, not just on paper. Thankfully, the only reason he really went to the Academy was to make sure he was visible, so that if he disappeared he would be missed.

He wasn’t really as afraid of that as he used to be, back when his sister was gone and it was like the village had forgotten she even existed. He had so many precious people now; Sansa and Sasuke and Tama-neechan and Kakashi-nii and Tenzo-nii and Gai-ojisan, and even Sansa’s teammates, Chiyoko-neesan and Kabuto (Kabuto was weird. He smelled wrong and his smiles were all fake, but his Aneue liked him so Naruto accepted him but he wasn’t sure if he actually liked him). His precious people would know if he disappeared. And they were actually helping him learn how to be a strong shinobi– Gai-ojisan was brutal in his training, Naruto didn’t even want to think about how sore he’d be after their training sessions if it wasn’t for Kurama helping him heal his aching muscles.

Gai-ojisan was a way better teacher then any of the Academy senseis, but the Academy was a “necessary evil” if he wanted to earn his hitai-ate, so Naruto dragged himself there at least three days a week to suffer through the lectures and training and tests. He was always relieved when the final bell rang and was usually first out the door, even when he was supposed to be in detention. Like he’d actually attend one of those!

Sasuke always walked back with him to their apartment. Sasuke, unlike Naruto, was always really focused in classes. Naruto usually sat next to Kiba so he wasn’t distracting Sasuke. Sasuke didn’t need a shield from his crazy fans anymore, so he could sit next to someone who wouldn’t be disruptive the entire time like Naruto usually ended up being, even unintentionally.

The Academy was just really boring.

The shortest route from the Academy back to the Yūkaku had them cutting through one of Konoha’s bigger marketplaces– it wasn’t a route that Naruto took without Sasuke with him, he’d been hit with too many rotten vegetables and rocks to want to risk it. When he was with Sasuke though, the villagers seemed to content themselves with just glaring at him.

Except… as they entered the marketplace, Naruto could feel a sudden prickling on the back of his neck as people seemed to be pausing whatever it was they were doing and turning towards him and Sasuke.

There was nothing good about the looks on their faces, and the air felt tense.

“A good fox,” Tama-neechan had once told Naruto, “is a clever fox.” Naruto knew he wasn’t book-smart. He’d never been good at focusing on or learning from the lectures and scrolls and written tests at the Academy. That didn’t matter, though– not really. He might not be book smart, but he’d always had good, clever instincts. A predator’s instincts, Waka-gashira had called them once, honed in equal parts by Sansa and Tama, and by the violent, angry villagers he’d spent his formative childhood year surrounded by, allowing him to be focused and aware of his surroundings and keenly tuned to the emotions of those around him.

Naruto trusted his instincts, had trusted them even when he didn’t understand them, didn’t understand why it was that he was so willing to let dirty, stinking strays into his lonely apartment (somehow sensing Sansa’s soul behind those too-wise, too-sad eyes, even when he didn’t realise it), didn’t understand why he felt such a vindictive rush when using the red-burning-fire, didn’t understand why he was so drawn to the song of Sasuke’s chakra as it intertwined with his own.

Naruto trusted his instincts, and he knew there was something really, really wrong in the marketplace today.

He was used to feeling the hatred of Konoha’s villagers when he had to travel through the village proper to get to the Academy. He was used to their anger. He was even used to their fear. He wasn’t used to the sheer terror he could practically taste in the air, stirring around him as he and Sasuke made their way through the marketplace.

Naruto knew terror. He’d caused it himself while helping Tama-neechan get answers from hardened criminals by wielding Kurama’s chakra and Killing Intent against them, and he’d felt it himself, had once even literally pissed himself in terror when a shinobi who was visiting the Palace of Flowers hadn’t recognised Naruto and pinned him to the ground, pushing his tongue in Naruto’s mouth and his hand down Naruto’s pants before Kotone-neesan had smashed a vase on his head (Tama-neechan had comforted him after that it was a physiological reaction, the tensing muscles in his abdomen squeezing his bladder as he went into fight or flight mode, but that hadn’t made it any less humiliating).

Naruto knew fear. He trusted his instincts. And his instincts were telling him that there was something very, very wrong about the terror in the air around them.

“We need ta go,” he hissed to Sasuke, his eyes darting around, searching for the threat, for the danger. “We need ta go now!”

“What–?” A confused Sasuke started to say, and then the first rock hit Naruto on the side of the head, a glancing blow that barely drew blood. It still hurt. Not so much physically, but the little boy inside of Naruto who wanted nothing more than the acceptance of the villagers shriveled and died just a little bit more.

“Who did that?” Sasuke demanded, whirling around, furious.

“It doesn’t matter, c’mon, let’s go,” Naruto urged. The terror in the air was twisting into something darker, something uglier, and everything about this situation screamed danger to his instincts.

“I can’t– I can’t live through another rampage,” a woman cried out desperately, hysterically, above the hissing, murmuring voices. “I can’t! I already lost my babies, my babies–“

“We need to kill it now,” a wild-eyed merchant said, his hands trembling at his sides as he stared at Naruto like he was seeing Kurama in Naruto’s place.

He probably was.

“If the Sanbi got free and killed a Kage, who knows what the Kyuubi will do if it gets free,” someone else said, and the angry, terrified murmurs of the crowd were getting louder and louder, and Naruto was surrounded on all sides by the sickening fear-hate-terror.

As more rocks started to be thrown, Naruto was able to bat most of them away, his eyes still darting around, looking for an escape. His heart sunk as it appeared less and less likely they’d be escaping without a fight as the villagers had started crowding closer, closing around him and Sasuke, blocking off any means of escape as more and more people joined the press of bodies.

“This is for my son, you bastard fox!” Someone snarled, and Naruto turned sharply, barely lifting his arm in time to block the hard blow from a bottle of sake swung at the back of his head. The bottle shattered against his arm, the jagged edges of the glass tearing into his skin and he hissed in pain.

Naruto’s moment of distraction with the sake bottle resulted in the next several rocks hitting him in the head and chest, and amidst the pain there was a terrible, terrible fear welling up inside him. The emotions were so overwhelming around him and within him that when he heard Sasuke suddenly cry out in pain, it was without even consciously pulling on it that Kurama’s fiery chakra flared under his skin, the red-red-red of it now visible at his clawed hands.

Using Kurama’s chakra, however unintentionally, was a terrible mistake and Naruto knew it was a terrible mistake immediately; it was like he’d just dropped a match in a puddle of gasoline. Some of the villagers screamed and backed away. Others didn’t, instead closing in tighter and using their make-shift weapons, which included glass bottles and fist-sized rocks and even a few knives, to lash out at him as Sasuke was shoved out of the circle of attackers closing tightly around Naruto.

In that moment, Naruto finally understood Sansa’s fear of mobs as it felt like he was being crushed by the bodies piling onto him. He cried out at the agony of something sharp being shoved into his gut and something hard cracking against his ribs, then screamed as a heavy glass jug shattered against the side of his face, the shards digging into his right eye as burning alcohol soaked down his shirt.

All Naruto could see was red. The pain was blinding and he thrashed in place, lashing out with clawed fingers, teeth bared as Kurama’s suffocating chakra flooded the marketplace.

A knife strike glanced over his shoulder and he could hear the crunch of breaking bones before familiar hands, Sasuke’s hands, were suddenly grabbing onto him, Sasuke having fought his way desperately through the crowd to try and reach Naruto. Naruto grasped onto Sasuke like he was a lifeline, blinded by glass and blood and pain. Someone latched onto his other arm as Sasuke tried to pull him free of the press of bodies, and that person yanked so hard that Naruto’s shoulder made a popping sound before a fresh surge of excruciating pain hit. It felt as if his arm was being torn from his body, and then another set of hands grabbed his elbow and wrenched it back the wrong way hard. There was a sickening crack and Naruto couldn’t help but scream again.

He thought he could hear Sasuke’s voice, only for the agony to drive him under as the crush of bodies overwhelmed him once more.

That was when Sasuke screamed.

And then the world burned.

::

Sasuke couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever been so terrified. Not even finding the bodies of his parents with Itachi standing over them had left him this desperate and afraid.

It had all happened so quickly; one moment he was taking in the unrest around them and uneasiness on Naruto’s face as the blond urged him that they needed to go, the next he was being shoved away from Naruto, pushed back by the press of bodies that were violently tearing into his best friend with whatever objects they had on hand used as make-shift weapons.

It was only with the help of a blunted Academy kunai that Sasuke managed to shove his way back through the press of bodies, desperately shouting Naruto’s name as he punched throats and used the kunai to hammer at people’s heads and hands and any soft, vulnerable spots he could possibly find.

The whole time he fought, he could hear Naruto screaming.

When Sasuke reached Naruto, he wanted to scream too because Naruto’s face was a bloody, swollen mess, pulpy bits of a ruined eye smeared down his cheek, bone sticking out of his arm. He grabbed Naruto, tried desperately to pull him out of the centre of the mob, only for other people to grab onto Naruto, yanking at him like they were trying to tear Naruto to pieces. Sasuke had never heard Naruto make such a terrible, wounded sound as when that man had viciously broken his elbow, bone splintering through skin.

The world spun into brilliant focus around Sasuke, and suddenly it felt as if everyone in the attacking mob of villagers was moving in slow motion. It let Sasuke jab and punch and kick, crushing windpipes and breaking knee-caps, fighting quick and dirty so he could get Naruto out of the crushing mass of bodies trying to drag them both under.

He’d nearly freed them when something struck the side of his head with such force that his vision immediately went blurry. In the moments before the pain hit, he thought he heard someone cry out his name, voice high and panicked, and then he was screaming, on the ground without even remembering how he got there, until there was too much blood gurgling in his throat and he wasn’t screaming anymore, he was just choking.

There were other people screaming though. There was lots of screaming. And he could feel the burning, familiar heat of the Kyuubi’s chakra blanketing in the air around him, massive and potent and overwhelming in its malevolence and fury, on a scale that Sasuke had never experienced before. He tried to open his eyes but all he saw was the blue sky and a pink blur.

“Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die,” he thought he heard someone pleading. Something pressed against his neck hard and Sasuke cried out in agony and protest, lifting weak hands to try and push the pressure away. Fingers squirmed into the wound, pushing inside his neck, and Sasuke sobbed and gagged and then his world faded blissfully to black.

::

Sakura panted, harsh panicked breaths that tore at her throat; cold sweat was plastering her hair against the back of her neck and there was– was something sliding down her forehead that she desperately wanted to wipe away, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t move, couldn’t defend herself, couldn’t do anything because she was holding Sasuke’s life in her hands.

Her fingers ached and cramped, shaking minutely, even as she continued pressing hard against the terrible, tearing wound in Sasuke’s neck, trying desperately to remember how long it was safe to apply direct pressure to the arteries in the neck before the risk of heart attacks or stroke from blood being obstructed from reaching his brain but not knowing any other way she could stop the bleeding. How long had she been holding Sasuke’s neck closed? She wondered desperately. It felt like it had been an eternity.

The harsh, searing burn of the malevolent red chakra shrouding Naruto as he tore through the mob of villagers felt as if it was scalding her with its touch, the Killing Intent in the air was so overwhelming that her head was spinning with it, her Inner Sakura curled up and rocking, mumbling gibberish. She could see people falling to their knees, some of them throwing up and soiling themselves. She was surprised that she hadn’t.

Sakura couldn’t panic, though. She couldn’t fall apart. Her hands were slick with blood, she could feel Sasuke’s pulse under her fingers as his heart struggled to beat while he choked and gasped for air, face a ghastly milky-grey colour as his red eyes rolled about blindly in his head. Sakura was crying, she knew she was crying, and shinobi shouldn’t cry, tears were weakness, but she was just so afraid.

The side of Sasuke’s head was a gory mess where the grass-cutting blade had hit him with force; the skin was pulped and bloody, bones jutting oddly, and the blood. There was so much blood. Sakura thought of how, earlier that day even, she’d giggled with Ino and Ami over how cute Sasuke’s face was.

Sakura didn’t think she’d ever be able to look at his face again without remembering this moment.

Shinobi in their jōnin vests and ANBU in their masks were pouring into the civilian marketplace. It was maybe only a minute or two since the mob had started attacking her classmates, but that had been long enough to almost kill Naruto and Sasuke both.

Sakura couldn’t even think about it, how she had used one of her Academy kunai to punch through the gut of a farm-hand she’d once gossiped about the muscles of with Ino as they’d wandered through the once-familiar marketplace. The same farm-hand who had hacked at Sasuke’s head with his grass-cutting tool when Sasuke was trying to save Naruto from the violent mob.

Sakura wanted to vomit as she remembered how she had twisted and dragged her kunai down and across the farm-hand’s gut, her arm burning with the sheer effort it required, and the hot-wet gush over her wrist as soft, warm shapes bulged out to escape from the opening she had created. The farm-hand had collapsed and Sakura had dragged the screaming Sasuke back, away from the stampeding feet as that scalding, malevolent chakra exploded from Naruto in great big columns of power, shrouding him in burning red. Sakura had watched in terror as her classmate slashed and clawed at the mob until a silver-haired jōnin that Sakura didn’t recognise appeared in front of him and seized into Naruto, pulling him close instead of pushing him away like Sakura’s instincts were screaming at her to, one of his hands wrapping around to firmly squeeze the back of Naruto’s neck.

Naruto immediately went limp in the silver-haired man’s hold, and the burning columns of violent, fiery chakra seemed to sink back into his skin. Sakura could have sobbed in relief as the burning heat against her skin seemed to ease.

So distracted by the chaos and violence around her and the boy bleeding out beneath her hands in spite of her desperate attempts to keep his blood inside his body, Sakura barely even noticed the jōnin that had crouched beside her until they touched her shoulder, causing her to flinch violently. Turning from Sasuke’s grey, bloodied face, his red-red-red eyes spinning and rolling in his head, Sakura looked to the serious-faced man crouched beside her. He was wearing the ugliest green jumpsuit and had the bushiest, boldest eyebrows paired with a terrible bowl cut, yet Sakura didn’t think she’d ever seen a more beautiful sight.

“Can you keep the pressure on?” He asked her, his voice deep and grounding. “Can you keep it up until we get to the hospital?”

Sakura found her voice. “Yes,” she choked. “Yes, I can do it.”

She found herself and Sasuke scooped up into the jōnin’s arms, held carefully against his broad chest. She could feel his heart thundering, he was holding them so tightly. It made her even more aware of Sasuke’s sluggish pulse under her fingers as she kept her grip as firm as possible despite the slippery blood.

The man ran so fast that the world blurred around Sakura. She didn’t pay attention to it, though, not like she would have at nearly any other time, too focused on keeping Sasuke alive and stopping more of his lifeblood escaping through her fingers as she kept the artery pinched closed with one hand, and applied pressure with the other.

Time skipped and blurred. A blink and they were racing over the roofs of Konoha. Another blink, and Sakura was kneeling over Sasuke on a hospital stretcher, a medic with ash-grey hair and black-rimmed glasses running hands lit green with chakra over Sasuke’s head.

“Rapid and massive major carotid artery bleed,” he barked out, “extensive penetrating injury to his left frontotemporal and preauricular region. Pulse rate 140 beats per minute and oxygen saturation was 80%. Active arterial bleed from the maxillary artery, anterior to the mandibular neck. Get me an endotracheal tube and group O red blood cells for immediate transfusion!”

Sakura trembled as the medic’s eyes flicked up to meet hers; he appeared calm and focused, which was the opposite to how she felt; dizzy and teary and nothing like a proper shinobi should be.

“You’re doing very well,” the medic soothed her, “you’ve kept him alive; let me do the rest now.” He positioned his hands, glowing green with cool healing chakra, over hers, poised over the gaping wound in Sasuke’s neck. “Ready?” The medic asked.

No! Sakura wanted to scream, but instead she nodded and the medic smiled at her. “Okay,” he said, “three, two, one–“

Even the brief moment where Sakura let go of the artery and moved her hands away was enough for a spray of blood to hit her in the face, and she tried not to gag as Sasuke’s blood dripped into her eyes and mouth.

The medic’s hands was surrounded by brilliant green as one pinched the artery and the other passed gently over the pulped, bludgeoned side of Sasuke’s face.

“Multiple left side skull fractures with multiple comminuted fractures involving the zygomatic process of the left temporal bone, lateral wall of left orbit, left orbit apex, left superior orbital fissure and left optic canal, squamous part of left temporal bone, wall of sphenoid and ethmoid sinuses, and the greater and lesser wing of the sphenoid bone. Acute subarachnoid hemorrhage along the left Sylvian fissure and an acute subdural hemorrhage along the frontotemporal convexity with brain swelling,” the medic listed. “Someone move the girl and get her a shock blanket. We need to take Sasuke into surgery now!”

It didn’t register that ‘the girl’ referred to was her until Sakura was being lifted from the stretcher by the jōnin in green. For a moment, her instincts kicked in and she tried to fight, tried to kick herself free because Sasuke needed her, he needed her, he was dying–

The green jōnin crushed her to his chest, firm and secure and Sakura found herself sobbing hysterically as she clutched onto him.

“Shh, shh,” the jōnin soothed, “you did it. You did it. You kept him alive. The medics will do the rest now.”

“I could feel him dying,” Sakura sobbed. “He was dying, and I could do nothing!”

“Then let this be a teaching moment,” the green jōnin said, firm but kind. “Do not despair, Young Blossom, for you are in the springtime of your Youth; you will overcome this and you will learn how to do better. Do not let this crush your burning will!”

“And Naruto–“ Sakura kept babbling, frantic and terrified as she clung to the jōnin with desperate blood-wet fingers. “He was so hurt, they kept hurting him, they wouldn’t stop–“

“Naruto’s safe now,” the jōnin soothed, “he’s been taken here to the hospital and he’s been guarded by the second strongest shinobi in all of Konoha, I swear to you, he’s safe.”

Sakura sniffed loudly, pulling back to try and wipe away her tears with the back of her arm. It came back smeared and bloody and Sakura almost started crying again at the sight of Sasuke’s blood on her. Sasuke and the farm-hand’s (but she couldn’t even think about him and what she’d done to him to save Sasuke’s life, not right now).

“If Naruto’s being guarded by the second strongest shinobi in Konoha, then who’s the strongest?” She asked wetly, trying to distract herself. The jōnin smiled at her, wide and beaming.

“Why, it is I!” He proclaimed. “For I have won more challenges than my Eternal Rival who is now protecting Naruto from any harm as he is healed.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Sakura admitted, tearing up again. The jōnin boomed out a laugh, his expression as warm as his eyes as he looked down at her.

“My name is Gai, Konoha’s Mighty Green Beast,” he declared. “And what is your name, Young Blossom?”

“I’m Sakura,” Sakura said shyly. “Haruno Sakura.”

Gai’s smile widened. “And it is a true pleasure to meet you, Young Sakura– the Will of Fire burns brightly in you!”

“But I was so scared,” Sakura said in a very small voice, looking down at her feet in shame. Her sandals were flecked with blood.

“And yet, even through your fear, you persevered, making you a true shinobi of Konoha!” Gai declared.

“Really?” Sakura whispered. Gai’s face softened, and he placed a large, calloused hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Really, truly,” he promised her solemnly. “Now, tell me, who do you most want to be with right now?”

“I…” Sakura trailed off, before saying plaintively, “I want my mama.” She couldn’t help the babyish name that slipped out, because suddenly all she wanted was Haruno Mebuki’s arms wrapped around her, the familiar scent of her cherry blossom perfume flooding her senses.

“Tell me where to find her and we shall go there at once!” Declared Gai, giving her an enthusiastic double thumbs up.

“But Sasuke– Naruto–“ she tried to protest, seized by the sudden fear of what would happen to them if she left, if she wasn’t here to help them. Gai’s face gentled again.

“Your dedication to your comrades gives you great credit, Young Blossom,” he told her, making Sakura blush slightly despite herself. “An important part about being a shinobi, however, is also knowing when you must take care of yourself.”

Sakura looked down at herself, at her blood-soaked hands, at the spray of red that stained her qipao, the dirt on her leggings where she had been kneeling. Her hair was stuck to the back of her neck and she thought her face must look an absolute fright, covered in smeared blood as it was.

“Is there somewhere I can clean up a bit first?” She asked Gai. “I don’t want to scare my mother.”

“Of course!” Gai beamed down at her, and Sakura smiled shyly back up at him.

“Thank you, Gai-san,” she told him. “For everything. If you hadn’t come…” Sakura couldn’t help her shudder as she remembered being back there on that street, holding Sasuke’s life in her hands while that malevolent chakra burned red and furious in the air, the stench of the disemboweled farm-hand stinking up the air.

“Do not linger on the what ifs, Young Blossom,” Gai told her, gentle but firm. “That will only ever dim the springtime of your Youth. Focus instead on the victories you have achieved today– you have saved a comrade’s life, and helped to protect another comrade from unjust harm. You did so well, Sakura.”

Sakura couldn’t help it. She started to cry again, but Gai seemed to understand that these were tears of relief.

Her parents were both home when she and Gai arrived there, though her frantic father looked as if he was preparing to leave, no doubt to search for her considering how late she was and Sakura didn’t doubt that word would have spread about Konoha like wildfire about the mob in the marketplace.

Sakura thought that both Kizashi and Mebuki almost had heart attacks when they saw her being escorted home by a jōnin, in addition to being dressed in the over-large pair of hospital scrubs that Gai found for her while she was scrubbing the dried, tacky blood off her face and hands and wringing it out of her hair. Sakura took one look at her parents before she started crying again, stumbling forwards into her mother’s arms, which swooped around her to hug her tightly as if she was never going to let go of Sakura again.

It was nearly two hours later, after Sakura had spent a long time crying in her mother’s arms before taking a proper shower and changing into fresh, clean clothes with absolutely no blood on them, that she returned to the living room. Gai was long gone but Sakura was surprised to see her parents were not waiting alone.

Her aunt Ayaka was sitting in their living room, looking as elegant as she always did, in addition to a girl that Sakura had only ever gotten glimpses of when the girl met Naruto and Sasuke at the Academy, though she had certainly been a topic of conversation in the Haruno household.

Uzumaki Fuyuko, clad in a black dress that appeared to be fashioned out of leather fish scales, layered to form a sort of armored bodice over her torso, her brilliant red hair styled intricately in several braids woven together in a thick crown around her head, smiled at Sakura, her teeth sharp and white.

“Hello Sakura,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Oh, thought Sakura faintly. She hadn’t been expecting this at all.

::

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

Sansa looked silently down at her brother, his hair so bright against the crisp white hospital sheets. There was a coldness that had settled over her, an icy sort of calm that in no way reflected the fury she was experiencing.

Sansa had been in the Yūkaku, in the process of completing a fitting for one of Naruto’s favoured “neesans”, when she sensed the burst of Kurama’s chakra. Her hand had slipped, the pin she had been holding digging into Rini’s skin and drawing blood, causing the woman to cry out in surprise. Pakkun had reacted much the same as Sansa had, letting out an alarmed yip as he bolted to his paws, ears standing upright and his eyes wide enough Sansa could see the whites as she met his panicked gaze.

“Naruto,” they both said together, and then Sansa had turned and practically flown through the streets of Konoha in her slippered feet she was moving so quickly, her surroundings blurring as she ran to her brother’s side.

The sight of Naruto’s limp, bloodied form cradled protectively in Kakashi’s arms felt somewhat akin to stepping onto an iced-over lake only to feel the ice crack beneath her feet, sending her plunging into the frozen depths. The one thing, the only thing, that spared Konoha from Sansa using brute-force to tear her jinchūriki seal free and spend her final moments watching Kurama wreak their vengeance upon the village that had always done its best to destroy Sansa’s bright, beautiful boy, her dearest brother and son both, the child she had raised just as surely as she had raised Robb, Torrhen and Raya, just as thoroughly as she had destroyed Ramsay and House Bolton for Rickon, was the fact that she could see Naruto still drew breath.

“Naruto,” Sansa’s voice was little more than a whisper as she moved closer, her horrified eyes taking in the damage he’d suffered; his lovingly hand-sewn clothing ripped and blood-soaked, skin bruised black and purple, limbs flopping at odd angles, bone visible where it had torn through flesh, and shoe-marks on his face, the whole shape of which was distorted by shattered bone.

“Stay next to me,” Kakashi warned her; both his eyes were visible, the grey razor-sharp focused, the Sharingan a spinning blood-red wheel of death, and his chakra felt like she was standing next to a barely contained lightning storm, crackling like static against her skin, “Naruto needs the hospital.”

Sansa silently followed Kakashi, any words trapped in her throat. She and Kakashi were flanked by ANBU as they ran and Sansa wondered distantly if they were there to protect her– or to protect Konoha from her. If Naruto died, no amount of ANBU would spare Konoha her wrath. If Naruto died, Konoha would die with him.

Sansa had never empathised so keenly with Daenerys prior to this moment now, where she was confronted with the realisation that she would not hesitate to see the entire village burned to the ground if Naruto was lost to her and she would not regret it for a single breath.

Naruto was hers. He was her world. What was the point of this world without him?

Immediately upon their arrival at the hospital, bursting in through the doors, Naruto was taken into surgery. Practically the second Naruto had been transferred from his arms to a stretcher, Kakashi didn’t waste a moment to crush Sansa to his chest. Sansa usually felt warm and secure in his hold. In that moment, however, all she felt was numb. Even Kabuto sending an underling to update her on Sasuke’s condition didn’t manage to penetrate the numbness that had settled over her.

It felt as if hours passed without news; in reality, though, it was barely ninety minutes before Naruto’s unconscious body was being wheeled out of the operating room on a stretcher into an ANBU guarded hospital room and Sansa was finally able to set her eyes on her brother, her twin, her most precious person, once more.

He was still unconscious following the surgery and the medic-nin explained that they planned to keep him unconscious for a minimum of twelve hours to ensure uninterrupted healing. A number of Naruto’s bones had had to be re-broken where his enhanced healing had resulted in them setting incorrectly or setting with objects such as a broken off blade of a knife and shattered glass embedded in the healed fractures. Her little brother had also required having shards of glass extracted from his right eye, an embedded blade removed from his liver, and his lungs drained of fluid after it was punctured by one of his broken ribs. The medic-nin were unsure if Naruto would recover the vision in his right eye– it depended entirely on just how enhanced his healing was.

“There will be blood for this,” Sansa said very softly once the medic-nin left the room. She could feel the wariness-agitated-upset of the ANBU stationed around the room but she ignored their reactions, reaching a hand out to gently run her fingers through Naruto’s hair. Her brother looked so small on the white sheets, reminding her that the little boy was barely nine years of age. Nine years old and he had already suffered more than a person ought to suffer in an entire lifetime, let alone a child.

As she looked down at him, her vision of his small, still body overlayed with that of another younger brother, one who was barely seven when he’d been riddled with arrows by the Bolton bastard. She had taken it upon herself to remove each arrow from Rickon’s body, had washed him clean of blood, had combed his hair and dressed him one final time in clothing she’d sourced from the chambers that had once been Robb’s before kissing his cool forehead goodbye. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning forwards to kiss Naruto’s forehead, and felt the relief of the warmth under her lips.

Sansa had lost so much of her family by the time of Rickon’s death, and Rickon was the second of her pack she’d watched die before her eyes, helpless to do anything to save them.

She wasn’t helpless now.

Sansa breathed in, held it, then breathed out. Outright rage, no matter its righteousness, would earn her nothing but accusations of hysteria and childishness, no matter how she yearned to scream herself hoarse in her fury. This was her brother, her baby brother, the little boy who made her life in this world worth living, the child of her soul she had dedicated herself to, who she loved with every aching piece of her shattered heart. Naruto was hers, and Konoha had almost killed him.

Again.

And not only had they almost killed her precious brother, but Naruto’s best friend and Sansa’s unofficial foster child was in a coma following surgery in response to what Kabuto’s underling had described to her as “a lethal craniofacial injury”. The underling had passed on Kabuto’s warning that even if Sasuke woke up there was a chance he would be paralysed on the left side of his face from the facial nerve injury and that he could suffer permanent visual loss in his left eye due to the extensive optic nerve damage.

“I will have blood,” Sansa vowed, leaning down to press her lips against Naruto’s forehead a final time before she turned and swept from the hospital room. Kakashi, who had not left her side since he had carried the unconscious Naruto to the hospital, shot the other visible occupant of the room, Tenzō, a fierce look that silently ordered Tenzō to protect Naruto in their absence before following after her.

Tenzō and Kakashi were the only people in Konoha who had willingly defied the Hokage to attack Danzō to free her. If Sansa could trust anyone to keep Naruto safe, even from the Hokage, it was Kakashi and Tenzō. If the ANBU stationed in the room or any of the hospital staff tried anything she trusted that Tenzō would attack first and ask questions later, exactly as she preferred in defence of Naruto.

Sansa swept through the hospital, ignoring the excess of activity in the wake of her brother releasing multiple tails worth of Kurama’s chakra in response to the mob attacking him and Sasuke. Outside the hospital, with Kakashi still barely a half-foot behind her, a protective, vengeful shadow constantly scanning their surroundings for threats, Sansa veered into the first alleyway she could find and summoned Lady.

“I need you to contact Itachi’s summons,” she said before Lady could even greet them. Sansa could see the alarm on Lady’s face, could read it in how she bristled as she took in the sight of Sansa, the fur of her ruff standing up. Distantly, Sansa wondered what expression she was wearing on her face. She suspected it was akin to the expression she’d worn while she had been forced to stare at her lord-father’s head rotting on a spike, or when she had watched Rickon crumble, arrows buried deep in his chest– a look of distant horror, of terrible grief, of grim resolution, and of deep rage.

“What do I tell the crows?” Lady asked, not wasting time on the unimportant details.

“Tell them they need to pass a message on to Itachi,” Sansa said flatly. “Tell them that Sasuke and Naruto were injured by a mob. Tell them that the medics don’t know if Sasuke will wake up— or bow permanently he’ll be damaged if he does.”

Lady’s lips pulled back from her jagged, dagger-like fangs and she growled, startlingly deep and furious.

“I’ll tell them,” she promised darkly before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kakashi asked. Sansa appreciated that there was no judgment in his voice, only curiosity tempered by vicious fury.

“I think that Itachi is uniquely motivated to do whatever it takes to ensure Sasuke’s survival,” Sansa said flatly. “And if the worst does happen… I don’t want to be on the list of people he holds responsible for Sasuke’s fate. Do you?”

Kakashi grimaced at the very idea.

“What now?” He asked instead of questioning her further on the Itachi matter.

“Now?” Sansa said, “now I put on my armour and go to war.”

::

With the hot metal stench of Naruto’s blood and pain still thick in his nose, Kakashi felt like he was standing on the crumbling edge of a cliff. It was only Fuyuko’s grounding presence that kept him away from willingly stepping over that cliff edge into raw instinct and rage. Where Kakashi felt like he would shake out of his own skin in his fury, Fuyuko appeared cool and composed, her hands steady and her movements graceful as she donned a black dress.

When those who knew them both compared Fuyuko to Kushina and Naruto to Minato, Kakashi wanted to laugh at how flawed their superficial comparisons were. It seemed they had all too readily forgotten how Kushina wore all her emotions, her rage included, like she wore her heart– on her sleeve, for everyone to see. Minato, though? Minato kept his rage tucked behind warm eyes that hid cold calculations and gentle smiles that hid sharp teeth. Fuyuko might mirror Kushina in her looks just as her brother mirrored Minato, but in her fury she was every inch her father’s daughter.

Her quick, clever hands made short work of her burning-bright hair, twisting the deep red strands into braids which she fixed in place with ivory-coloured combs. She then cleaned her face of the deep blue whisker marks she wore so boldly on her skin, a challenge to all those who looked down on her for the Bijuu sealed within her– a Bijuu he had long-since realised she was on much better terms with then she had admitted to him.

That was okay. Kakashi knew she didn’t trust him yet, not fully, and he didn’t begrudge her of it as he understood what it was like to doubt the intentions of even those closest to you– even now Kakashi was struggling to trust that Tenzō would protect Naruto and Tenzō owed Kakashi his very life and personhood, as well as already having proved his loyalty to Kakashi over the Hokage and Konoha when he fought Danzo alongside him and followed Kakashi when he fled Konoha with a jinchūriki, actions that could have seen them both executed for disloyalty to the village, yet Tenzō had not even hesitated to follow Kakashi’s lead.

If there was any shinobi other than himself that Kakashi should be able to fully trust to act in Naruto’s best interests, not the Hokage’s or Konoha’s, it was Tenzō. Kakashi was certain that Fuyuko understood that too; it was why she had even felt she could leave Naruto at the hospital, and why, he suspected, she had always been so encouraging of Tenzō’s presence in her home and in Naruto and Sasuke’s lives. It wasn’t to say that Kakashi thought Fuyuko did not genuinely care about Tenzō– it was more that he suspected caring about Tenzō was just the bonus of the situation.

Minato had been very good at cultivating and charming his most useful allies too.

Watching as Fuyuko washed away the last smudges of blue from her cheeks, Kakashi made a soft inquiring noise. The thought of forcing his aching jaw into further speech was beyond him at that moment. Not when there was still a howl of rage trapped in his throat, not when the sight of Naruto’s broken body was burned into his memories by Obito’s gift, not when he was still overwhelmed with the urge to tear apart anything and everything that so much as breathed in Fuyuko’s direction.

Fuyuko acknowledged his curiosity regarding the cleaning off of the face-paint with a low hum as she placed the damp cloth down next to the kitchen sink. Her sharpened nails clicked audibly against the wooden bench-top, one of the only visible signs of the rage Kakashi knew was coursing beneath her skin, that he had felt resonating in her vow to her unconscious brother in that hospital bed of vengeance for his suffering.

And Naruto had suffered. Even with the enhanced healing that the Bijuu sealed into his soul gave him, Kakashi had been terrified that Naruto would be lost to them. Seeing the boy who claimed him as brother, claimed him as pack, shrouded by that haunting red chakra, Kakashi had been terrified that an opportunistic shinobi reeling over the news of the Sanbi’s rampage would take the opportunity of Naruto using the Kyuubi’s chakra as an excuse to kill him and claim they thought the Kyuubi was breaking free and that by murdering the boy they were defending the village from a threat.

He had been running on pure instinct and adrenaline when he approached Naruto despite the scalding burn of the Kyuubi’s chakra, seizing his little brother with one hand tight on the boy’s scruff even as he pulled Naruto in to where he was close and protected against Kakashi’s chest, regardless of the scalding pain. Naruto had immediately crumpled into him, desperately vulnerable in his deeply injured state yet still trusting Kakashi to protect him and keep him safe as the Kyuubi’s chakra sunk back beneath his skin to reveal the extent of his injuries. Kakashi would never forget the sounds of Naruto’s agonised keening until he had knocked the boy out in an attempt to spare him the pain.

Kakashi suspected Fuyuko would never forget the sight either as she fixed her deceptively calm gaze on Kakashi’s own.

“Today will be its own battle,” she said, voice deceptively even, a small pale hand brushing against her clean face as she moved over to the basket by the door that held a mishmash of shinobi gear and weapons, pulling from it a hitai-ate tied through a white band that to this day he’d not once seen her wear. Fuyuko’s face was as calm as Minato’s had been before he slaughtered an entire platoon of over one thousand Iwa shinobi, men, woman, and children all, as she fastened it around her neck like a collar– or a noose. “And this battle,” Fuyuko continued, those deep blue eyes meeting his own, “requires a different sort of statement.”

There was nothing childlike about Fuyuko in this moment, nothing innocent or youthful in those ocean deep eyes that caught and dragged Kakashi in as if he was caught in the currents of a whirlpool. As his breath caught in his throat, Kakashi was seized by the odd yet overwhelming urge to take a single knee before her.

Kage, the side of his brain ruled by more human instincts whispered as he took her in.

Alpha, the deeper, more primal instincts growled.

Mine, thought Kakashi.

Mine to follow to the ends of the world and beyond.

“Let’s go,” Fuyuko ordered as she turned towards the exit, her movements graceful and controlled, her expectation that he would follow as effortlessly commanding and authoritative as Minato had been.

And Kakashi did not even hesitate a heartbeat to do so, a looming, protective shield at her back, ready to cut down any threat.

Fuyuko lead them through the village, keeping carefully to the rooftops to avoid civilians, making her way to the home of her fellow councilwoman Haruno Ayaka. A pale-faced servant redirected them to the household of Ayaka’s brother, head of the Haruno merchant clan, scenting strongly of fear as they did so.

Haruno Ayaka met them at the door of her brother’s house, following Fuyuko’s brisk knock. The civilian woman looked terrifyingly vulnerable by Kakashi’s assessment, all soft hands, fluttering throat, and thin, breakable wrists. Her gaze, however, was as sharp and calculating as any shinobi’s and she wore her intricately embroidered, many-layered kimono with the same confidence in which a samurai wore his armour. Like Fuyuko, Kakashi suspected this woman was just as powerful in her battlefield of choice, wielding her sharp mind and silver-tongue as her chosen weapons as expertly as Kakashi wielded his chakra and kunai on his battlefield of choice.

Ayaka held herself with a steady undercurrent of rage as her eyes met Fuyuko’s. Kakashi would be bristling in defence of his charge if the civilian woman’s shoulders hadn’t loosened slightly from their tense posture as she swept her gaze up and down Fuyuko and took in her uninjured state.

“I imagine it’s only a matter of time before the Council calls an emergency meeting,” Ayaka said in place of a greeting. Kakashi could appreciate the lack of a need to attend to the social niceties that he had never had the time for, even if he could mimic them when required.

Fuyuko nodded her agreement, the movement bringing attention to the hitai-ate acting as a collar, and Kakashi had to fight against the urge to tear the offending noose from her neck where it did not belong. “Yes, I imagine so,” Fuyuko answered Ayaka. “I thought that it would be beneficial that we had a discussion first, to best ensure the meeting is a productive one.”

Meaning, Kakashi mentally translated, Fuyuko wanted Ayaka’s support in whatever plan she had going into the emergency Council Meeting. From Kakashi’s understanding of village politics, Haruno Ayaka’s support certainly had its weight. Merchants occupied an interesting place in Konoha’s social hierarchy, coming beneath the nobility, the farmers, the craftsmen and the shinobi, yet a person’s place in society did not always correspond with their wealth and influence. Their social rank could be lower, as someone who grew food was considered socially more valuable than someone who moved product from place to place, but merchants were typically much wealthier then farmers, sometimes wealthier even then some of the more impoverished nobles, with all the connections and influence that came with that.

The Haruno were a family of merchants with significant wealth; their product moved all across the Elemental Nations, including in all the Hidden Villages. It was this wealth and influence in addition to her intelligence and connections that had earned Haruno Ayaka, younger sister of the head of the Konoha branch of the Haruno clan, her place on the village Council– Kakashi had not hesitated a moment to look into her, including digging into her T&I profile, when he realised Fuyuko considered her an ally on the Council.

Fuyuko was scrutinising Ayaka as the older woman stepped to the side, waving them into her brother’s house with a graceful sweep of her arm. “You look nearly as angry as I am,” his packmate observed as she stepped into the house, Kakashi keeping only a half-step behind her to ensure he was close enough to intercept any enemies waiting in ambush or projectile attacks.

At Fuyuko’s words Ayaka’s expression shifted from subtle rage to overt fury, causing Kakashi to tense.

“My niece, Sakura, she’s in the same class as your brother and Uchiha Sasuke,” the civilian woman said, her voice trembling in her suppressed anger. “She was caught up in the fighting today– she defended the young Uchiha, Sasuke, and was forced to fatally wound the man who almost murdered the boy before applying pressure to Sasuke’s injury, fortunately managing to stop the poor child from bleeding out before help arrived even though it left her unable to defend herself in the midst of a riot.” 

Fuyuko’s face had darkened as Ayaka spoke and Kakashi was a good enough sensor that he could feel the agitation in how her chakra twisted and churned beneath her skin, hungry tides and vicious whirlpools that sought the destruction Fuyuko yearned for beneath the controlled facade she wore as flawlessly as any of her dresses.

“Your niece, Sakura, she’s only eight or nine?” Fuyuko questioned, as if she herself was not also eight years old– sometimes Kakashi thought that Fuyuko forgot she also wore the trappings of a child’s skin; there was never any insecurity or hesitation in her when she spoke with adults as if she were their equal in age and rank, with the full expectation that she be respected just as she would respect them in turn; no more, no less.

“Sakura is nine years old,” Ayaka confirmed, and Fuyuko bowed her head. Kakashi didn’t like it, his instincts crawling as he tensed even further as she exposed her vulnerable nape to somebody who was not part of their little Pack. His muscles only loosened when she was holding her head high once more.

“Words cannot describe my gratitude to your niece for saving Sasuke’s life,” Fuyuko told Ayaka, “but I grieve for you all that Sakura was put in life-threatening danger today in her own village, that she witnessed such unspeakable horrors committed against her classmates, likely by people she knows or was at least familiar with, and that she has been forced to shoulder the terrible responsibility of having to take a life to save a life at such a young age.”

Ayaka nodded, her lips thin and pale. “I am also very concerned,” she said, “that the Hokage will use this as an opportunity to strip Konoha’s civilians of power by taking away our seats on the Council or restricting us to advisory roles only as a result of what happened today.”

“It would not surprise me,” Fuyuko agreed with Ayaka’s assessment of the situation. “Which is why we must take control of the narrative for this afternoon’s tragedy. Tell me– why do you think events unfolded as they did? Why, in a village full of shinobi, did it take so long for there to be a response? I know how suddenly violence can break out, and how quickly serious, even fatal damage can be done,” and there was no doubt in Fuyuko’s voice as she stated this, making Kakashi wonder just where she had witnessed a riot taking place while under Danzo’s care. He did not linger on the thought– that way only led to rage and madness. “This is a militarised village,” Fuyuko continued, “so why was the response to the mob violence so delayed? Why was there no shinobi response until the Kyuubi’s chakra sent out a beacon across the village?”

Kakashi realised where Fuyuko was leading them mere moments before Ayaka did, the civilian woman impressing him yet again by her quick grasp of the intricacies of the situation.

“The Uchiha Massacre,” Ayaka murmured, and Fuyuko nodded in confirmation.

“The Uchiha Massacre– and the subsequent dissolution of the Konoha Military Police Force,” she agreed. “In addition to investigating crimes committed within the village, the police force run by and staffed by the Uchiha were responsible for keeping the peace within Konoha’s walls.”

“ANBU and the jōnin forces aren’t trained to patrol the village; they’re trained for sabotage, body-guarding, assassination, and open-warfare,” Kakashi added. “Setting a jōnin on a civilian is like setting a tiger on a kitten– conflict between civilians is not considered dangerous, and it is not something we are taught to respond to. The opposite, actually, as shinobi involvement is more likely to result in injured or dead civilians, which is… discouraged when in-village.”

It could be difficult to moderate strength in a fight as instincts and muscle-memory kicked in. That wasn’t to say that there weren’t jōnin like Gai and Kakashi himself who were skilled enough to ensure they didn’t accidentally kill civilians while subduing them, but the issue was that the more skilled a shinobi, the more of a waste it would be to assign them menial tasks such as patrolling the village.

Having the Uchiha run the KMPF had served twofold in that Uchiha were masters of using genjustsu to deescalate fights without having to get into physical altercations and it reduced the need for Uchiha shinobi to leave the security of the village where they were more likely to be targeted by enemy shinobi looking to carve a sharingan out of their corpses. Of course, remaining in-village hadn’t turned out to be as safe as it should have been with Danzo happy enough to steal the sharingan within the comfort of the Konoha’s walls, but that had been the original intention, one that the Uchiha Elders at the time had been pleased to agree to when the Nidaime raised the possibility to them.

“I believe the T&I department and the Genin Corp have picked up some of the slack in responding to civilian issues and crimes committed inside the village by civilians, but the KMPF was never actually replaced after the Massacre,” Fuyuko concluded the explanation, looking meaningfully at Ayaka, who again proved quick to grasp where Fuyuko was leading them.

“Then it certainly should not come as a surprise that the Hokage’s negligence has directly contributed to this utter tragedy,” the woman murmured, and Kakashi silently marvelled at his quick, clever Fuyuko. Her father, Kakashi thought to himself, knowing better then to ever speak the words aloud as he knew Fuyuko well enough to understand that she would have certain feelings on the matter, would have been so proud of her.

Kushina would not have hesitated to rip apart anyone who touched her children. Minato, on the other hand, would have smiled at them before systematically destroying their reputations and their lives, only deigning to slit their throats when they were kneeling in the wreckage of everything they held dear. Fuyuko had leashed her fury, had tamed it, taking a step back from the situation to determine how she could use the misfortune that had fallen over her to further her own agenda while still making sure her enemies bled for her failures and successes both.

Ayaka was smiling. It was not a nice smile. The way she looked at Fuyuko was familiar to him; it was how Itachi looked at her, how Tenzō and Jiraiya looked at her, how Kakashi himself looked at her. Kakashi wondered if it was how the late and unlamented Yagura had looked at Fuyuko also, when she had called a tsunami upon his village. It was as if they too could see past the child to the older soul beneath, to the echoes of Uzushio’s empresses whose blood ran in her veins.

“Your niece,” Fuyuko said, “can I speak to her? I’d like to say thank you.”

“Of course,” Ayaka agreed. “I’m certain she will love to meet you.”

::

Sakura had hoped that when she finally met Uzumaki Fuyuko, the girl her aunt spoke so highly of, the eight-year-old who had won the Chūnin Exams hosted in Kiri and who sat on the village Council along with heads of Clans and the Hokage himself, she would have been able to give a more impressive showing. Instead, nobody had actually warned her of who was waiting in their formal dining room, so when Sakura entered it her eyes were puffy and bloodshot from all her crying, her wet hair was tied back, failing to even slightly hide her enormous forehead, and she was dressed in her comfiest pyjamas which were pink and fluffy with a pattern of sushi. It was definitely not the impression she’d hoped to make on the graceful kunoichi who always seemed to be wearing the most beautiful and unusual dresses and who was younger then Sakura but had already achieved so much!

Sakura felt her cheeks heat up into an ugly blush as those beautiful deep blue eyes met her own boring pale green. She could only imagine how Ino and Ami would have laughed at seeing her standing there, so disheveled and uncute and like a stupid little girl, not a proper kunoichi at all. Just stupid, pathetic, civilian Sakura. Instead of any scorn or mocking or amusement, however, Fuyuko’s face lit up at the sight of her.

“Hello Sakura,” she said, her voice sweet and lilting as she gracefully crossed the distance between them, gently clasping Sakura’s limp, clammy hands in her own slender, pale ones. Sakura wasn’t fooled though; as dainty as Fuyuko’s hands looked, she could feel the callouses on her fingers and palms that spoke of active shinobi work. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“H-Hello Fuyuko-hime,” Sakura stammered, and Fuyuko’s smile softened into one that was as lovely as she was.

“Please,” she said, “call me Fuyuko. It’s the least I can offer you, after everything you have done for me today.”

Sakura couldn’t help but flinch as she recalled the riot, remembered how hot and wet Sasuke’s blood had been, how horrific the sounds of Naruto’s screams were in her ears, how easily that man had torn open…

Sakura didn’t even realise she was crying until she’d been pulled into Fuyuko’s arms, held tight against the other, shorter girl.

“I’m so sorry,” she found herself repeating, over and over. “I’m so sorry. I could barely do anything, I’m just so weak, I couldn’t even get to Naruto, he was screaming so much, there was so much blood, Sasuke was dying, I couldn’t do anything, I’m just a stupid little girl, I was useless!”

Fuyuko drew back suddenly, her face suddenly fierce. “You take that back,” she ordered, her stern voice leaving no room for argument. “You are not a stupid little girl. You saved Sasuke’s life. Do you understand that? Nobody else there would have helped him. Nobody else there cared about him, they would have trampled his corpse in their eagerness to tear my brother to pieces. Sakura— without you, Uchiha Sasuke would be dead.”

Dead.

The word rattled around her brain as Sakura stared dumbly at the beautiful girl before her.

Dead. Uchiha Sasuke, the Uchiha Sasuke, top shinobi of their grade, dead because of rioting civilians.

Her mouth moved without any conscious thought.

“I need to get stronger,” she said. “I need to know how to protect my people.”

Fuyuko’s smile widened, her rosy lips pulling back slightly to reveal sharp, pointed teeth, her eyes gleaming like a predator’s. Sakura’s heart skittered in her chest yet she held herself still, firm in her conviction. She needed to become stronger so that next time, she would not be so helpless when her people were attacked.

When Sasuke or Naruto had become her people, she wasn’t quite sure. Maybe it had been when she’d tried to fight through a riot for them. Maybe it had been when she’d heard Naruto’s desperate screams and had been helpless to save him, to spare him the agony. Maybe it had been when she’d killed a man in Sasuke’s defence then held his life in her blood-drenched hands, begging him to survive.

“If you truly wish to become strong, in your body, your heart, and your mind,” Fuyuko told her, “then I will help you.”

Sakura met her eyes with unwavering conviction.

”Then help me,” she said.

::

Senju Tsunade woke with a groan, her head pounding with the after-effects of the sake she had consumed. Her stomach churned unpleasantly and she groaned again, forcing herself to sit up on the couch she had sprawled across in her drunken slumber. Eyes still closed, she reached up to massage her temples, cringing against the stabbing pains as she regretted waking up.

It was the sound of a pointedly cleared throat that had her eyes flying open and Tsunade felt herself freeze in place, limbs turned to stone, when she found herself staring directly into a pair of active sharingan, the crimson and black pinwheels spinning as those terrifying eyes fixed on her own.

Uchiha Itachi, one of Konoha’s most infamous missing nin, smiled at her. His smile was empty of anything but rage.

“Good morning,” he said, as if he hadn’t broken into her room in an inn in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, as if he wasn’t threatening her with those cursed eyes that Tsunade had been taught from the cradle to fear by her kin who remembered the terrors wrought by the sharingan during the Warring Clans Era.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tsunade demanded, not interested in entertaining the false pleasantries. Itachi’s face lost the empty smile, expression turning blank other than those burning eyes.

“There was an incident in Konoha earlier this evening,” he said flatly. “My little brother has been badly injured. You will return to Konoha to heal him.”

“Like fuck I will,” Tsunade snarled. The Hokage himself hadn’t been able to make her return to Konoha, and this wet behind the ears pup thought he could force her? She didn’t care if he was a kin-killer, didn’t care how much blood soaked his hands, she’d vowed she would never return to Konoha and she’d beat this boy into a paste before she ever broke that vow. “What do you even care for your kid brother? Didn’t you kill the rest of the shinobi in your clan?” she demanded, incredulous that the little hypocrite would even dare ask such a thing of her.

Itachi’s face was still blank. “I did,” he said. “I butchered every child and elder and all those in-between who had ever so much as touched a kunai or practiced a single kata. What do you think it means, then, that out of all those in my clan with even the slightest shinobi training, Sasuke was the only one I left alive?”

Tsunade wasn’t sure if the rolling in her stomach was from her binge drinking or from the uneasiness she felt in response to Itachi’s flat statement and having those pinwheel eyes still fixed on her.

“It means,” Itachi continued when she said nothing, “that there is no line I will not cross when it comes to Sasuke. Kai.”

Tsunade sucked in a breath as a genjutsu she hadn’t even noticed broke and then she did vomit, the bile burning her throat as she stared down in horror at Tonton’s butchered body strewn in pieces across the floor of the inn, the pet pig’s blood staining the wood. It felt as if the sight of that blood had paralysed Tsunade, squeezing her lungs until she was left wheezing for air that wouldn’t come.

Looking back up at Itachi, vomit on her chin, she saw his expression unchanged in the face of her distress. Instead, he threw something at her. Tsunade flinched, her hand automatically darting up to grab the projectile even as she gasped for breath.

Her blood turned to ice as she realised what she was holding– a chunk of familiar dark hair.

“Shizune,” she whispered in horror.

Itachi’s expression was still blank, no shift even in the face of her growing distress and fury.

“You will return to Konoha and you will heal my brother,” the dark-haired boy, barely more than a child, told her flatly. There was no humanity left in those pinwheel eyes. “Or I will return Katō Shizune to you in as many pieces as I returned the pig– starting with her head.”

Tsunade stared at the Uchiha boy in horror, a terrible fear gripping her as she thought of Dan’s niece held captive by this monstrous child.

“If you hurt her–“ she started to snarl, but Itachi interrupted her.

“I will have no need to harm her, if Sasuke lives.” He said coldly. Tsunade roared in fury, lunging forwards, gathering chakra in her fist to turn the boy into pulp, only for him to burst into a flock of crows. Her fist passed uselessly through where he had stood as the crows shrieked and cawed, flying in every which direction, leaving Tsunade standing there, breast heaving, vomit on her chin and her heart sinking as she realised the only only option left to her if she wanted to keep Shizune alive.

She would have to return to Konoha.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR:

There was a blinding rage burning hot and fierce in Uchiha Obito’s chest. This was not unfamiliar to him. His world had become a hateful, angry place since he had lost Rin. No, not lost– taken. She had been taken from him. Her life had been stolen by the miserable world they had been birthed into, knives pushed into their too-small hands as adults smiled and lied to their faces about the glory they were fighting for. 

Rin was the first thing Obito thought of when he woke up and the last thing he thought of before going to sleep. He had spent countless hours reliving his sharingan-preserved memory of her face, perfect even in the stillness of death. He had spent countless hours more obsessing over the older, fainter memories, determined to never forget her beautiful smile and her kind soul, how her cheeks creased when she smiled and how her entire face would light up when she laughed. 

Yet even as he remembered her, the aching perfection of his great love, Obito had to swallow down the urge to destroy the world that had destroyed her. Rin wouldn’t want that, he had to remind himself when he was almost lost in the urge to see it all burn. He wasn’t an emotionally constipated idiot like Kakashi, Obito knew Rin was too kind, too good, to want destruction wreaked in her name. He remembered her tears at the end of every battle where her hands were bloodied on the orders of their superiors. He would never forgive that, would never forgive the Hokage or Minato for forcing Rin to kill when all she had wanted was to heal. They had stolen her innocence with each enemy dead at her hands, stolen her joy with every battlefield of corpses, and then they’d stolen her life with their endless greed for war. 

They all deserved to die and Obito ached to destroy them, to destroy it all, the tainted, corrupted world that had dimmed the beautiful light of Rin’s soul before crushing it from existence entirely, extinguishing her life like she was nothing, when she was everything. But for Rin and for Rin alone, Obito would hold himself back. Rin had dreamed of healing and peace, and he had sworn over her lifeless body that he would honour that, that he would honour her and create in her name a legacy of peace not war. With the power of the Infinite Tsukuyomi he would create a perfect world, just for her. 

That was why Obito was so enraged to learn that Rin’s legacy, the Infinite Tsukuyomi and a world of peace, had been endangered. And because of Kiri, of all the filth in the world. 

It had been so incomparably easy to set up Kiri’s downfall, ideas formed and planted and coaxed into fruition, one after the other. Yagura had been such a useful pawn, the living-cage for the Sanbi dancing to Obito’s tune with a little help from the Sharingan, no more then a puppet ignorant to the strings tangled around it. If he closed his eyes, Obito could almost see the all the threads of the web he’d so carefully weaved just waiting to be plucked like the strings of a shamisen in an ode to Rin. Or rather, he had been able to see it. Now, clumsy hands had torn at the threads and hacked at the strings, and Yagura was dead, the Sanbi had escaped to ocean depths unknown, and Obito was left raging at the wreckage of his carefully orchestrated events gone up in the flames of a successful revolution he had somehow not foreseen. 

The Infinite Tsukuyomi needed the Sanbi to work. Obito needed the Sanbi, and now the Kiri rebels were responsible for it being lost to him, out of his reach until it emerged from the watery sea depths to set foot on land once more. 

Even in the aftermath of his initial rage-fuelled rampage upon being alerted by Zetsu to the news of the Kiri rebels’ success, Obito was still seething with fury. His first impulse was to go to Kiri, to reach his fingers into the mind of the new Mizukage and twist them to his will, make them as much his puppet as Yagura had been. It was only the words of his once-mentor that prevented him from following his impulses. “Never start a fight you don’t know you’ll win,” Madara had taught him, beating the lesson into Obito over and over. 

Kiri would be on edge, the rebels still on war-footing as they fought to keep their uneasy control over Obito’s pet project, a ruined village of poverty and turmoil. Even he could not take on a Kage level shinobi and their guard without a convenient distraction such as a Bijuu raining destruction upon its surroundings. Trying could result in the doom of the grand plan, even more so than the Sanbi’s current freedom. He couldn’t let his impulsiveness risk Rin’s perfect world. He also refused to allow the successful revolution and temporary loss of the Sanbi create a setback. Maybe once, back when he had been a foolish child desperate for approval and acknowledgment by his clan, his teachers, and Kakashi, he would have despaired or acted foolishly. The Obito of now, however, the Obito that Madara had trained to replace him and complete the Infinite Tsukuyomi in his place, would not. 

Madara had dedicated the beginning of every day that he trained Obito to a game of shōgi; at first, back when he was still that foolish, ignorant child, Obito had not been able to see the point in playing the games, too focused on learning new katas and jutsu, burning up with rage and ready to raze the world to ashes. Madara had taught him better than to overlook skills not taught for the battlefield. 

Shōgi was learning to replace the pieces on the board with the minds of his opponents until he understood how to make people move where he desired them in the same way he moved the pieces on a shōgi board to achieve victory. Madara had taught him how to find and use the weaknesses in those around them. He had demonstrated to him how to lever his patience and gather allies with honeyed words to gild a trap they would never see coming. He had shown him how easily the minds of those weaker than them could be bent and broken by the sharingan, free to be reshaped in the image of their choice. 

Obito breathed in then out, then breathed again, and again, until the rage finally simmered down and his mind had cleared. Able to focus once more without the blinders of anger, his mind spun with plans that he created and discarded until a pathway finally emerged to him and he smiled, slow and sure, moving to don the orange mask and the facade of Uchiha Madara once more. 

He needed to have a conversation with Hoshigaki Kisame. 

::

Hiruzen sighed heavily, looking out the window of his office as the moon disappeared fully below the horizon. Soon the sun would be kissing the horizon, the skies painted with streaks of pink and orange and gold, and he would be able to put off calling the Council Meeting to discuss the previous day’s mob attack no longer.

He had not even left his office to sleep that night, despite the exhaustion that had been weighing him down since he first heard of the mob of civilians that had almost murdered Naruto, nearly torn apart the village’s Jinchūriki with their bare hands in their panic of another Kyuubi attack.

At least he had been able to track down how they’d learned of the Sanbi’s escape— a Chūnin who worked at T&I had gotten drunk at a bar and let the information slip about the rumours of the Sanbi’s escape, the at the time unconfirmed rumours that Jiraiya had been sent to confirm. Not that it had mattered that they were unconfirmed back then, of course, and the news of the Sanbi’s escape had inevitably spread like a forest fire in the heat of summer amongst Konoha’s civilian population. The Chūnin in question was, of course, now short a head, though Hiruzen suspected that Uzumaki Fuyuko would see more blood spill for this, if she could. He was tempted to let her. The rage he felt at the condition he had seen the two children in, and at the hands of the villagers that Naruto and Sasuke had sworn themselves to protect upon entering the Academy, was indescribable. Every last civilian involved had been arrested, treated for their wounds, then relegated to cells to await the outcome of the Council’s decision. 

Hiruzen would see them all executed in a heartbeat for their crimes. Sooner, even. Yet he feared that if he passed such sentences, Naruto and Fuyuko would only grow more reviled by the civilian population. He was already going to have to try and contain the fall-out of this incident, which had involved Naruto’s very visible and public use of the Kyuubi’s chakra— how much more would the villagers hate the Uzumaki twins if they held them responsible for a mass execution of their own?

But would Fuyuko accept anything less? And who in the Council would she rally behind her? He liked to think he knew better than to underestimate her now based on her age, yet each and every day she continued to surprise him. 

Grimly, he watched the first rays of sunlight pierce through the sky, feeling as if somewhere out there was a clock counting down to his undoing. A sudden crash disrupted his maudlin thoughts; instinct had him on his feet, kunai out, before he even realised who had just burst into his office. His eyes widened in shock. 

“Tsunade?” he asked, stunned, as the deceptively young-looking blonde glared fiercely at him. She looked dishevelled, flushed and sweaty with her hair tangled and windswept where it was not plastered to her neck and forehead with sweat, as if she had been sprinting at full speed for hours without pause. Her clothes were soaked in sweat and carried on them a stench of alcohol mixed with vomit. 

Tsunade did not waste any time on niceties, just as she apparently had not wasted any time on changing her clothes. 

“What the fuck,” she practically snarled, “happened to Uchiha Sasuke so that his psychopath brother abducted Shizune and killed my pet pig to blackmail me into healing him!?”

“Your pig?” Hiruzen asked, his brain latching onto the most nonsensical bit of information as he stared at his student, trying to process her presence in Konoha and the reason behind it. 

“He butchered Tonton!” Tsunade slammed her hands against his desk, causing the wood to crack in half under the force of the twin blows. “Dan gave her to me when she was a piglet, and the little psychopath fucking left her in pieces and told me he’d do the same to Shizune if I didn’t heal his brother!” 

Tsunade’s voice cracked and Hiruzen was even more alarmed to see the tears welling in her eyes. “I ran all fucking night to get here, terrified that his stupid fucking brother would die before I even reached Konoha!” 

“I’m so sorry, Tsunade,” he told her, hurrying around his broken desk so he could pull her into a hug. She struggled half-heartedly for a moment before slumping into his arms, her body shaking as she cried silently. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Hiruzen closed his eyes and took a moment while his student hid her face against his chest as she composed herself again to feel the relief of having her safely back in Konoha, no matter how brief her time in the village might be. 

He would always claim he did not have favourites amongst his students, which was mostly true, but the beloved grand-niece of his own sensei had always been the student he was proudest of, the student whose loss he had mourned hardest when she left Konoha; he had always refused the encouragement of his advisors to make her a missing-nin and spare the village the embarrassment of her gambling antics out of hope that one day she would come home and don the Hat that she so rightfully deserved. 

Tsunade seemed to have finished composing herself, and Hiruzen felt the loss of her as she stepped back, her eyes slightly red-rimmed but other than that, no sign remained of her tears. 

“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath, “okay. So, what happened to Uchiha Sasuke?” 

Hiruzen sighed as the enormity of the situation settled back on his shoulders. 

“He got caught in a civilian mob,” he told Tsunade grimly, and her eyes widened in shock. “A Chūnin from T&I got drunk and careless in a civilian bar, let slip the rumours of the successful coup in Kirigakure, including the fact that the Sanbi broke free of its seal.”

“I heard about that too,” Tsunade muttered. “It made people nervous then?” 

“You weren’t here in the aftermath of the Kyuubi’s rampage,” Hiruzen said grimly. “It terrorised this village, and the memory of that night still haunts our people to this very day. Even the thought that the Kyuubi could break free, that it could attack again… it overwhelmed all common sense. And when Sasuke was walking home with Naruto through a crowded marketplace…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “People seemed to lose their inhibitions, their fear and the fear of those around them just magnifying their violence.”

“Mob mentality,” Tsunade said darkly. “One dog will bark at you but a pack of dogs will attack you.” 

“Indeed,” Hiruzen agreed. “It was a terrible, terrible thing. Naruto was brutally attacked, and young Sasuke was very badly injured while trying to get Naruto to safety.”

“Fuck,” Tsunade muttered. “That’s fucking terrible. I still want to pop that little weasel Itachi’s head like a pimple, though,” she added fiercely. Hiruzen winced internally; Itachi was, after all, a very loyal shinobi of Konoha, even if his recent actions against Tsunade and young Katō Shizune may not accurately reflect that. 

Hiruzen was acutely aware, however, of the lengths that Itachi was willing to go for his little brother and he’d been dreading the damage that Itachi was capable of wreaking should his beloved Sasuke die or be permanently maimed by Konoha’s populace. Him forcing Tsunade’s presence in Konoha to heal Sasuke truly was the most ideal outcome considering what could have been. Not that Hiruzen planned on telling Tsunade that he did not find issue with the blackmail, and that the deaths of Katō Shizune and a pig would be more than acceptable sacrifices to sustain Itachi’s mental stability. 

“ANBU know to alert me the moment either of the boys’ condition changes,” he told Tsunade, “come back to my home, wash and change, then we will go to the hospital.”

Tsunade nodded, looking down at herself as if noticing for the first time the state she was in and grimacing. 

“I’m guessing after that you will have a Council meeting to attend?” She said dryly. 

“I will,” he said grimly, reaching to pick up the Hat. He wished that he was placing it on Tsunade’s head, not his own. She gave him a flat stare, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. 

“Good luck with that. You’re going to need it.” She said.

“Oh, don’t think you’ll be getting out of this one,” he said and she snorted before turning and leaving his office and his desk broken in two but his heart a little fuller, a little more healed, then it had been before she’d shown up. 

::

“Today is going to be troublesome,” Shikaku muttered. He had shed his laid-back persona and was sat up straight in his chair, eyes hard as he scanned the Council room from his seat beside Inoichi’s. Chōza, on Inoichi’s other side, looked solemn, his large face downturned. Inoichi couldn’t help but feel that his closest friends— and allies— had chosen their seating arrangement purposefully so they could keep him pinned in place if need be. As if they could see behind his serene expression to the hot fury and burning resentment that boiled underneath. 

Little, sweet Haruno Sakura had been a frequent guest at Inoichi’s home from the age of six onwards, all wide green eyes and a ducked chin and the sweetest, shyest smile. Ino had taken Sakura under her wing, and he and his wife, Ume, had gladly welcomed Sakura into their home and their lives. It hadn’t been an unusual sight to come across the two girls giggling together in Ino’s bedroom, or cartwheeling around the yard, or even volunteering to help in the flower-shop, dirt on their knees and under their nails as they helped him plant seeds and re-pot flowers. 

He knew that Ino and Sakura were going through a rough patch— some silly argument over a boy, Ume had chuckled, not concerned— but that didn’t change the fact that he’d watched that little girl grow from a shy little thing who could barely squeak without blushing to a young kunoichi who was finding her feet amongst the class of clan kids she’d found herself pitted against, stubbornly getting back up every time she was knocked down. 

Oh he was furious about what had happened to Naruto and Sasuke too, beyond furious even, but it was Sakura’s involvement had hit him somewhere deep and vulnerable, somewhere that still hadn’t recovered from the Root investigation. Sweet Sakura, barely more then a civilian herself, had run into the violence of a mob instead of away from it without hesitation upon seeing her classmates in danger, saving Uchiha Sasuke’s life but at the steep cost of the trauma of her first kill— within the walls of her own village, where she should be safe. 

Inoichi fully intended on ensuring that Sakura got every bit of preferential treatment and favouritism typically reserved for clan kids at the Academy that was available, even if he had to step forwards and volunteer as her patron himself. She deserved it, she more than deserved it. She was the only one in that marketplace who had tried to help Naruto or Sasuke until Naruto had started releasing the Kyuubi’s chakra, finally getting the attention of Jōnin— including a very protective Kakashi, who Inoichi suspected still hadn’t been seen to for the agonising chakra burns he must have sustained grabbing Naruto like he had while the boy had been shrouded with the Kyuubi’s chakra.

While normally Inoichi would be concerned at this sort of self-sacrifice and lack of self-care, he couldn’t help but think it warranted in the circumstances, and he doubted that Kakashi would be leaving the Uzumaki twins alone or without a protector he trusted implicitly for a second. If Psych tried to pull Kakashi up on it, Inoichi swore to himself that he’d give them all a dressing down and clear Kakashi himself.

There was a restlessness in the Council room as the various Clan Heads and the civilian representatives who were already seated waited for the key players of this meeting to arrive— Haruno Ayaka, Uzumaki Fuyuko, Uchiha Nenshō, and the Hokage himself. 

Haruno Ayaka was first to enter the room, sweeping in with her usual confidence, entirely uncaring of the fact that nearly every other person present was not capable of killing her ten different ways with their pinky finger alone. She was dressed in her usual riches, a many layered kimono with a pointed message for them in its patterned design of intricately embroidered cherry blossoms. Ayaka’s lips were painted deep red, her green eyes were sharp, and the kanzashi holding the intricate rolls of her hair in place were decorated with silk higanbana— red spider lilies, to represent death and grief and fire. 

“She’s ready for battle,” Chōza murmured as Ayaka gracefully lowered herself into her seat, ignoring all the shinobi staring at her. Shikaku just grunted while Inoichi looked over at Ayaka speculatively. He found himself disagreeing with Chōza; Haruno Ayaka wasn’t ready for battle, she was ready for war. 

Uchiha Nenshō was next to arrive. One of Uchiha Mikoto’s cousins, Nenshō was the only civilian in the Uchiha Clan Head’s bloodline, therefore the only survivor apart from Sasuke— and, of course, Itachi. As Sasuke would not be considered an adult until he had graduated the Academy or came of age and Itachi was not eligible due to his missing-nin status, she had been the only stand-in option available for acting Uchiha Clan Head. 

Uchiha Nenshō was a quiet but proud woman who had previously been content in her position as mother, wife, and hostess. She had not enthusiastically embraced her new role as acting Uchiha Clan Head, however, she had consistently performed the role to the best of her ability, that Uchiha pride of hers allowing nothing less. Inoichi was honestly unsure of how she would react to Sasuke’s injuries, as she had certainly not cared that Sasuke had left the Clan Compound to move in with the Uzumaki twins, an open ‘secret’ around the village. 

When Nenshō entered the room, he felt the back of his neck briefly prickle, though he could not tell why. Nenshō did not look any different from any other time he had seen her; small and slight, dressed in her traditional kimono with its embroidered uchiwa declaring her loyalty to her clan, her long, dark hair pinned in an equally traditional topknot. Beside him, Shikaku stiffened briefly before relaxing again. 

“Shikaku?” He murmured as Nenshō stepped across the room to take her seat. Shikaku shook his head. 

“Later,” he said, and Inoichi nodded, trusting whatever call that Shikaku had made. 

Nenshō’s face was cold as she faced the room, and the tension began to rise as they waited for the final two members of the Council so the session could begin. 

Fuyuko was next to arrive. Kakashi wasn’t with her, which surprised Inoichi, until he saw Tenzō half a foot behind her. Ah. Kakashi must be with Naruto then. 

Much like Ayaka, Fuyuko had wielded her appearance as a weapon against all those present. As someone who enjoyed the intricacies of hanakotoba himself, Inoichi could appreciate the deliberate thought behind each choice she had made.

Her dress was black, a colour traditionally representative of unhappiness, fear, evil, bad luck, and misfortune. It also had a bodice of layered leather designed to resemble armour, representative of both a lack of safety in her own village and her willingness to fight. 

Her face was wiped clean of all its usual paints she used to honour her heritage, her lost people, and Uzushio, in addition to declaring that she was not ashamed of her Jinchūriki status. To those familiar with her, as those in the Council room were, her bare face told them that today she fought for something— someone— else. 

Finally, her deep red hair had been braided and pinned high atop her head so there was nothing to restrict the view of the hitai-ate she wore tied tight around her neck on a white band— white for truth, for mourning, for death. 

This was her truth, revealed to them all, Inoichi thought as he looked across at the cold-faced child— Konoha was a collar around her neck, a death knell to herself and her brother, and she mourned every day she spent trapped within its walls. 

“What have we done?” Shikaku murmured. He sounded resigned. 

“What will we do now?” Corrected Chōza, quietly. 

Inoichi shook his head slightly, disagreeing. “What is there that we possibly could do?” He countered, noting how Fuyuko’s head tilted briefly in Nenshō’s direction, her hand brushing back against Tenzō’s, before she gracefully settled in her seat. 

At last, the Hokage entered— and it seemed that it wasn’t just Fuyuko’s camp who had come prepared to play games. Inoichi raised his eyebrows in surprise at seeing Sarutobi flanked not just by Jiraiya of the Sannin, but by Senju Tsunade.

“How did he ever manage to drag her back here for this?” Chōza sounded impressed. Inoichi was too, if reluctantly so.

“Jiraiya’s already on the thinnest ice imaginable with the twins,” he noted, glancing at the other Sannin. “He has to realise what will happen to that relationship if he sides against Fuyuko here.” Shikaku snorted quietly. 

“Jiraiya and Fuyuko both know there’s no relationship nor the potential of one between them except for a mutual give and take when it’s beneficial to them. They use each other with the full awareness that that’s what they’re doing with the thinnest pretence of getting along for the sake of getting what they need from each other.” He said bluntly.

Inoichi considered it. That certainly made more sense than Fuyuko forgiving Jiraiya for his neglect of Naruto and herself. Her pragmatic approach to dealing with her neglectful godfather impressed him; as much as she must have loathed it, Jiraiya’s training did help Fuyuko survive the Chūnin Exams. 

Flanked by his students, Sarutobi stood before them all and cleared his throat. “We all know why we’ve gathered here this morning,” he said gravely. “But before we begin any discussions, I would first like to ask Tsunade to provide us with an update on Naruto-kun and Sasuke-kun.”

Tsunade looked mildly uncomfortable with all the eyes on her, likely feeling the burning judgment of those of them who considered her to be a missing-nin in all but name, yet she shook it off with the typical Senju stubbornness and bravado. 

“I saw both boys at the hospital earlier this morning,” she said briskly. Nenshō had leaned slightly forward in her seat, clearly listening attentively. “Naruto‘s enhanced healing had already taken care of everything except the damage to his eye. I had to remove the remaining ocular tissue as it was not possible to save his eyesight from what little tissue remained undamaged.” 

Inoichi hissed between his teeth. That explained Kakashi’s absence, then. He’d certainly be one of the best people to help Naruto process this sort of loss if he was capable of opening up to the twins. Inoichi looked over at Fuyuko to see her reaction. It was clear that this was not the first time she’d heard this news and her face was very cold. 

“As for Uchiha Sasuke,” a brief flash of something crossed Tsunade’s face, “while he’d already received above standard treatment from one of the medics working at the hospital, I was able to ensure that there will be no long-term damage. Sasuke was awake and talking to Naruto when I left the hospital.”

Inoichi felt something in his chest unclench at the news. It was manipulative of Sarutobi, attempting to deflate the tension by revealing the boys’ much improved status, but still effective for how unwieldy it was.

“Thank you, Tsunade, for your exceptional work,” Sarutobi said warmly. Tsunade nodded shortly before sitting back down, arms folded across her chest, her hands tucked out of sight. “Now, to address yesterday’s horror,” the Hokage said quietly. “Never, in all my years, have I known the gentle civilians of Konoha to turn on their own children. What happened was a travesty I would not have believed had I not seen the tragic results.” He shook his head slowly. “We have several important decisions before us today, as we must decide on an appropriate and proportional response to this terrible incident.” 

“If I may speak,” Haruno Ayaka’s smooth voice cut in, and Inoichi’s eyes widened at her sheer nerve. He didn’t know many jōnin who would dare interrupt the Hokage when he was speaking, let alone a fragile civilian woman. “Before deciding on our response to yesterday’s horrific incident, I believe that first we need to understand how it happened so we can prevent any repeats of such incidents,” Haruno Ayaka said. Her teeth were very white in contrast to her red lips as she smiled at the Hokage with absolutely no warmth. 

Sarutobi was silent as he looked over at her before conceding with a nod. “That does seem to be a reasonable request,” he said. “Our investigations uncovered that unfortunately, sensitive information was leaked by an off-duty shinobi who was under the influence of alcohol in a civilian bar. This lead to the panic that ended in yesterday’s mob.” 

“Hokage-sama,” Haruno Ayaka practically purred, leaning forwards in her seat. “I’m afraid you’ve quite misunderstood me. I’m not interested in the minutiae of what led to yesterday’s incident, I’m referring to the institutional failure that resulted in the possibility of such an incident occurring at all.” Inoichi could feel his breath caught in his throat as the anticipation built across the room. Haruno Ayaka’s smile was very, very sharp. “Please, educate me, Hokage-sama,” she said, “why did you decide against rebuilding the Konoha Military Police Force following the Massacre?” 

Oh, thought Inoichi, wide-eyed.

“Checkmate,” Shikaku murmured.  

::